breaking point
by sullymeblue
Summary: when his father is back in the hands of the russian mafia, artemis teams up with the People and an unlikely ally with a grisly past to rescue him...CH10 BABY! REVIEWWWW!
1. departure

**A/N: artemis shows up in ch3. the first two chapters are an introduction to my character reddler croft.**

_Departure_

"Wake up, kiddo. I want you to meet someone," said Mr. Croft, gentling shaking his thirteen -year-old daughter.

"Mmm-hmmm..." mumbled the curled mass on the pillow, pulling the covers up over her head.

"Hey, kiddo. Kiddo? Come on now, be a sport."

No reply.

Mr. Croft sighed, crouched down and easily lifted the mumbling, muttering mass from the bed. The covers were still on her head, although she was forced into a sitting position. He gently lifted the covers and stroked the dark burgundy hair, smoothing out the unruly quills.

Very slowly, annoyed blue eyes opened.

"Dad, it's a Sunday. Gimme a break." She started for the pillows again, but this time she was bodily lifted and placed on the carpet.

"Oh no, you don't," said Mr. Croft, laughing." Put on your slippers and come down to the hall. There's someone I want you to meet."

He turned to leave. "Right now, kiddo."

His daughter rubbed her eyes and groped the floor for her slippers, but could find only one of them. She put on her sneakers instead, and laces trailing, she followed her father downstairs, yawning.

Even before she reached the hall, she could make out the silhouette of a man appreciating the latest addition to her father's Monet collection. As she neared him, her first thought was: _oh, god. Is he tall._

Mr. Croft called out to him, and he turned around. _He must be…what, a six-foot-six?_

He was lean, but elegantly dressed in Armani, and had a military air. His fine-toned crew cut made him seem like he was almost bald.

"Kiddo, I would like you to meet an old friend of mine. This is Jeffrey Martin." said Mr. Croft, his hand on Jeffery's shoulder. "And Jeff, this is my private angel, Reddler."

Jeffrey Martin's cool brown eyes pierced into hers. He gave a small nod.

Reddler noticed that he wore driving gloves.

Quickly noticing that her silence would be considered awkward, Reddler smiled. Jeffrey remained silent.

"OK, kiddo. You've done your bit. Go get dressed. I'll tell Helga to get breakfast started." Mr. Croft turned to the kitchen, and Jeffrey silently followed.

Reddler stood there, her heart pounding. Jeffrey Martin was one of the weirdest people she had ever met. The moment his intense brown eyes met hers, she could _feel_ him reading her mind like a book. And that was the last thing she needed right then.

Especially after what had happened to her in Ireland.

Half an hour later, Reddler came back to the kitchen, freshly washed and dressed. She had on a crisp white shirt and ecru pants. The 'Classic Reddler' look, as her friend Dan Blandish put it. She poured herself a glass of juice and stood near the French windows of their enormous kitchen.

"So, where's Jeffrey?" she asked, taking a small sip.

Mr. Croft looked up from his paper and shrugged.

"He had to 'pick up a few things'. His words."

Reddler opened the window and the cool morning breeze wafted in, bringing with it the smell of the woods.

"What's the big deal about him anyway?" said Reddler, looking out of the window.

Mr. Croft sighed.

"He's going to look after you when I'm gone."

Reddler looked down at her juice. She had been expecting that. Her father was a geologist. One of the very best. His expeditions carried him all over the world—the Caucasus, Bolivia, Patagonia, the Seychelles—to name a few. He was gone for days, even months at a stretch.

His latest stint would be on a top-secret location in Siberia.

For three entire years.

Reddler watched the drops of moisture on the glass in her hand.

"Dad, don't go…"she said softly. "Forget this entire thing. Let's just go back to Montréal. This is too…complicated."

Mr. Croft sighed again. They had been over this a dozen times.

Marcus Croft had been a freelance geologist back in Montréal. Then came the big break. A huge multinational company got wind of his impressive credits, and invited him over to their R&D department. By virtue of his expertise, he was quickly hoisted to their bureau of top-notch scientists.

After his rapid promotion, he bought an enormous estate in the New Jersey suburbs, complete with a nineteenth-century chateau, golf greens and a quiet little pier.

The funding was so massive; it seemed unbelievable at the time, if not stupid.

A few years later, he quit his job and with his private funds, started his own company. He gave it a soppy, inconspicuous name- GRI or Geological Research for Industries, and threw his expertise in geology into full swing.

They specialized in almost every other thing, from coal mines to offshore oil rigs, from diamond polishing techniques to heavy metal industries. His company began expanding on a stupendous scale. His former employers staked out an alliance, urging him to combine their efforts with his.

When you've got a contract for fifteen billion dollars under your nose, it's a little hard to resist.

Never in his wildest dreams did Marcus Croft ever think a geologist would be a billionaire. _It's idiotic,_ he had thought.

Now that he _was_ a billionaire, he still thought the same.

But although he hadn't given it much thought at the time, he paid a heavy price for his rise to glory.

His family.

His wife had been dead for years. She had died almost a month after Reddler was born.

And in the years that Reddler grew up, Marcus Croft tumbled upon stroke after lucky stroke.

He doted on his pretty little daughter. His _lucky mascot_, as he called her. He gave her the best of clothes, books…whatever she wanted. But lately he was so wrapped up in his work; he couldn't give her the one thing she wanted most—his time.

And at times like these, when she looked at him with sad eyes and begged him to stay, he was overcome with guilt.

"I have to go, kiddo. You know how it works." He paused. "Come here, though. I want to tell you something important."

Reddler went over and sat on the counter top, her legs dangling.

"Listen carefully. When I'm gone, Jeffrey will look after you. But let's make one thing clear—he's not your butler, he's your guardian."

"Why don't you just say 'substitute father'?"

"It's hard, I know. But I can't leave you alone in this huge house."

"So you're throwing in a babysitter? I can take care of myself!" she stated indignantly, eyes flashing.

"Jeffrey is not a babysitter," went on Mr. Croft in a calm tone. "And don't get me started on what happens when you're left to look after yourself."

In spite of her anger, Reddler could not hold back a snicker. When Mr. Croft had been away for a few weeks, he had left Reddler, then nine, with a housekeeper. Reddler had rebelled outright. One week later, Mr. Croft received a call from the poor woman, almost in tears, who said that she was quitting as she felt that a few psychotherapy sessions would do her good.

"Jeffrey is my friend, kiddo. I want you to respect him as if he were me," Mr. Croft emphasized his words as best as he could.

_He's not you,_ thought Reddler. She half wanted to voice it out loud, but instead, asked: "Dad, who exactly _is _Jeffrey? I mean, doesn't he have a job or something?"

"Well, he's ex-foreign legion, ex-navy…I suppose. But I do know that he used to spearhead almost all the search and rescue operations of his battalion. Heaven knows what he's doing right now—says it's classified—but he must be employed by someone big. Really big. He's on a year-long paid vacation."

"_Paid _vacation?" said Reddler. Whew, whoever's employing him must be dipping in the big bucks.

"Anyway, that's what he told me."

Reddler shook her head. "Whoa, whoa, wait…how come this gun-trotting military guy agreed to climb down and be a _housekeeper_?"

"He's not a housekeeper," stated Mr. Croft, ignoring Reddler rolling her eyes. "He said that a year of relaxation would almost be unbearable for him. All he wants is to get away from his work, but not the excitement. What with you and those queer field trips of yours…to goodness knows where, I figured that it isn't all nice and quiet here. So I invited him here."

Reddler chuckled. "You really think he can handle me?"

"He's better than an electrified fence."

"Is he now?" said Reddler, easing herself off the counter.

Mr. Croft squinted at her. "I'm serious."

Two days later, as Reddler sat in the airport lounge watching her father shake hands with Jeffrey; she wondered what was so special about him that he shouldn't be fooled around with. Most of her life Reddler had got her own way, mostly because there were so few people standing between her and what she wanted. But now, as she watched this tall, calm stranger, she seriously doubted herself.

She snapped back to the present when someone touched her lightly on the shoulder. She heard a soft ding and the announcer's incomprehensible voice. Mr. Croft smiled at her, taking his day-bag which Reddler had been holding for him.

"That'll be my flight, I guess."

"And you're still going." Again, that heartbreaking voice and sad eyes.

"Cheer up, kiddo. I don't want this horrendous face haunting my dreams. How about a tiny smile?" he said, laughing.

Reddler smiled, but somehow that made her looked even sadder than before. She hoped she wasn't going to cry. After all, this was the last she would see or hear of him for three years. No e-mail, no calls, because they didn't want any traces on this project. Damned bureaucracy.

What if he died in this expedition in two months? She'd hear about it only after three years. Reddler choked on this thought.

She hugged her father. Mr. Croft kissed the top of her head, and turned to leave.

"You'll see me after three years," she said softly, as he walked away.

"Then I'll be happy," he replied.

"I'll be sixteen," she said, and gave a shaky wave.

Reddler watched the plane take off, her fingers clutching the fence warmed by the sun. She suddenly became aware of a presence behind her. She slowly turned around. Jeffrey Martin stood by the car, with an impatient look in his eyes.

_Oboy, _thought Reddler, as she walked to him, her jacket flapping in the wind. Why was this guy so…_prim_? He was so neat and affected in his manner that she suddenly felt very untidy and out of place. She had done her best to do her hair as neatly as she could, but the wind had screwed it up. She unconsciously ran a hand through the burgundy strands, trying to smooth them into place.

_Burgundy hair that glowed red in the sun. _

_His _voice. Reddler felt like she was choking. Not now, she thought, forcing a deep breath. Quick black and white flashes of Ireland scenery whipped by. She felt very faint.

"Are you all right? You look ill," said a voice.

Reddler jumped, her heart doing a double take.

Jeffrey Martin watched her as she stood by the fence. Slowly, she turned to face him. Jeffrey frowned.

He had been watching her closely for the past two days, and her face troubled him. Actually, he had felt it the very first moment he met her. He smothered back a smile, remembering the sleepy, dark-haired girl in her pajamas, obviously annoyed at being woken up so suddenly. But when he met her eyes, he was taken aback. Behind the annoyance and surprise, there was …sadness. Real sadness. And it was always there, even when she was smiling. It was undeniable. He had felt it only too often in his career.

In trauma victims.

In airplane crash survivors, in kidnapped hostages, homicide witnesses.

He wondered what had happened to _her._ He watched her lazily sift a hand through her hair.

Suddenly, she froze. Her expression changed rapidly and her face contorted.

He quickly walked towards her, but she didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were blank, and the dark quills falling over them didn't bother her.

Jeffrey looked at her closely. She looked very pale.

"Are you all right? You look ill," he said quietly.

She snapped back to reality, almost jumping. Staring at the concrete below, she wordlessly moved to the car.

He could almost see the emotional scars trailing in her wake as his eyes astutely followed her movements.

He felt a bit sorry as he sat down in the car and revved the engine. Reddler sat next to him, her head leaning on window.

Jeffrey drove out to the freeway.

_She's so young…_

Reddler took deep breaths, resting her warm forehead on the window. She looked at Jeffrey's reflection on the glass, and although he wasn't looking at her, she knew that he was watching her.

_Does he know? No, that's impossible…_

She straightened up, adjusting the seat belt.

"So, where are you from?" Her voice was even. _Will he even consider listening to me?_

After a moment's thought, he answered in the same, even tone.

"I travel a lot. My work carries me to different places."

"Ok...Where were you _before_ you came here?"

Jeffrey glanced at her. "Mostly Europe…I was in Tuscany."

"Tuscany…" mused Reddler, chewing her lip. "It must be beautiful."

"Dangerous, too, if you're careless enough to let your guard down." His tone meant business. Reddler wondered what she should talk about next, when he interrupted her thoughts.

"You'll be having school tomorrow, I suppose."

She raised a brow. "I don't go to _school,_" she said.

"You don't?" he said, in an amused voice.

"Well, you can't really call it a school, it's a…institution," she paused. "I'm in Symbiosis."

Jeffrey's amused smile vanished, and he frowned.

"You work for Richard Brent?"

Reddler snorted. "I don't _work _for him. I…learn stuff, I guess." Seeing his frown deepen, she turned to him and said in a brighter tone. "It's not that bad. Most of the stuff they teach us is really cool."

"It's a dangerous place."

"That contributes to the fun…I guess I like recklessness."

"Not recklessness. That's foolishness," he said simply.

Reddler pursed up her mouth, and said nothing. She knew, deep down, that his words were true. The Ireland heist had been reckless, she had thought. But it was foolish nonetheless. She had narrowed escaped with her life, but had left her sanity behind. She wondered if telling Jeffrey about Symbiosis was foolish. She hardly had any faith in her judgment lately.

She had left that behind in Ireland as well.

Knowing that thirteen-year-old Reddler was affiliated to Symbiosis told Jeffrey two things. One, she had to be incredibly intelligent. Two, she had no idea of the danger what she was putting herself in.

He had little doubt over the first one. He had observed her astute behavior with an eagle eye, and knew that her pretty face hid a remarkable brain. He could see through her cover-up without much effort.

But he doubted the second one. Her face told him that she had been through a lot. So she might have a vague idea of the trouble that being tangled up in Symbiosis brought.

"He's a dangerous man," he said quietly.

"Brent's not that bad," said Reddler, mildly surprised.

There was a long silence.

"I'm not talking about him," said Jeffrey.

Reddler nodded slowly. She knew exactly what he meant.


	2. the ambush

_The Ambush_

Jeffrey had been talking about David Easton, the second in control at Symbiosis.

When Richard Brent had established Symbiosis, he liked to refer it as 'a collaborative venture' rather than a school. In fact, it incorporated some of the brightest minds in the world. It was, after all, a symbiotic venture no less. They trained and guided the students with the on-hand experts in various fields, but the students were bound by contract to surrender their research to the institution, and no one else. Patents were not allowed.

When Reddler was five, the other kids in the kindergarten were learning their ABC's; whereas she was learning about transcendental numbers and some basic physics.

_It's trans-en-dent-al, Mr. Croft had said, as he taught his little daughter patiently._

'_trans-un-dennal,' repeated Reddler obediently. She could hardly pronounce the word, but her brain grasped the idea very easily, and continued to do so as she learnt elementary calculus and algebra over the next few months._

By the time she was ten, Reddler Croft was deep-rooted in particle physics and higher mathematics.

When she first signed up for Symbiosis, they were stunned by her. No doubt she was a genius in physics and math, but her sense of practical engineering was tremendous. Reddler could simply look at the innards of a machine and figure out how it worked. Sensing her enormous potential, Richard Brent himself filled in on her missing fields—natural programming and IT.

Reddler, on her part was delighted with what Symbiosis had to offer. She agreed that it was a unique institution, and the classes were very interesting. For example, the students were taken out on massive scale projects all over the world. They had flown to New Zealand to understand the dynamics of waves, and had also been to the highest manned observatory in Ladakh valley in India on an astrophysics venture. Many other globe-trotting field trips followed, including Reddler's favorite, a trip to an experimental positron in Southern France for a nuclear physics seminar.

For one thing, Symbiosis respected its students greatly. They were treated and taught as equals, and even the teachers were called by their first names. No one underestimated them, but no one overlooked them either.

Reddler had signed up when she was eight, and for the next two years, her progress was rapid but smooth. Only when she was ten, did she come to know about the dark side of Symbiosis Inc.

Since most of the students were tech experts, they were paired off and sent out on their own on highly specialized field projects. Only now they were termed as field _missions_. They gave Reddler a chill. Most missions were easy enough, they had to assist the CIA and the various other intelligence agencies on different cases. Sometimes they were asked to 'break into' secure locations, just so that their defense flaws could be brought to light. But there were missions, where there was some tremendous risk to their lives. After narrowly escaping death on one such mission, Reddler and her then field partner Karen Shaw had approached the Symbiosis Bureau questioningly, but were very surprised to find that they simply waved it off. Angry and rebellious, she then understood the greatest setback in Symbiosis' student policy—they were expendable.

The students were given the proper training and the latest weaponry, no doubt, but Reddler's chosen field of study was so specialized that she hardly had any time for martial combat training. With only handguns to protect her and logic guiding her, she had managed to survive. Not that she would've liked to learn combat, anyway. Reddler was no good at fighting, in spite of all her intelligence. She wasn't quick with the handguns, although her aim was quite accurate. She knew that at some point, only the usual camaraderie with her field partner kept her alive.

And sometimes her field partner went very far to protect her.

_Too_ far.

That cold fact was rammed into her more than once, and Reddler, then eleven-- older, smarter, but just as indignant-- went up to Richard Brent's office to talk about field mission safety. Instead, she was met head on by David Easton, newly posted as the Second in Control. He faced her with cold indifference, and said that since Symbiosis had given the best of both worlds to her, it was time she gave a little something back.

Even if the _little something_ meant her life, and that of her partner.

Reddler was frustrated, but without direct communication with Brent, she was helpless.

After her 'little talk' with David Easton, the field missions became more hazardous than ever. Even missions where physical skills and combat were more significant than technical skills were entrusted to her. Before Easton had arrived, the officials went a little lenient on her, and her projects, although dangerous, were somewhat less demanding.

The exertion began to wear her down. More than once, she came home with a slashed shoulder and blood dripping down her shirt front. Somehow, she managed to stay out of the sight of her father, and when he did see her one night, she merely said that it was from the dissection of the new sample at the marine biology lab.

On every mission that Reddler was sent on, she always wondered if she would ever return back home alive. How much was needed to reimburse for the education at Symbiosis? Their lives?

David Easton seemed to think so, anyway.

What Reddler _didn't _know was that David Easton, like Jeffrey, was also an Ex-Foreign Legion veteran. In fact, he had even been in the same battalion as Jeffrey.

Jeffrey knew Easton to be a cruel, ruthless man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted-- even kill. No doubt he was a brilliant strategist, but in search and rescue operations, his venomous side kept popping up far too often. He was even prepared to kill off the hostages, just to save face. Under growing scrutiny, Easton finally decided to drop out of the Legion and joined MIT. There was no trace of him for several years, and then he finally emerged at Symbiosis. Jeffrey knew that with that maniac as Second in Control, there was no doubt that he would be planning to put his students at stake.

And _that _troubled him.

He glanced over at Reddler, who was now fairly silent. Shaking his head, he drove the Lamborghini through the front gates and parked it on the driveway. The strong, silent man had seen too many grotesque instances in his career to be scared easily. But he was fearful for this little girl. Fearful of what Easton could do to her. He hoped, as he stepped out lightly, that he was wrong.

But he was sadly mistaken.

Jeffrey Martin sat at the bottom of the ornate stairs with a glass of restina in his hand. He looked at his watch. It was one o'clock at night. Reddler was late, yet again. He thought of the state she returned in four days ago. There was a terrible gash across her ribs and her shirt was soaked in blood. He had rushed to her, but she met him with a straight face.

"_You'll need help on that," he had said._

_She shook her head_,_ saying, "I'll take care of it. Don't bother. It isn't deep."_

"_Does it hurt?"_

_She smiled. "I've been worse."_

He suddenly heard the front door slam. He stood up, and walked quickly to the hall. Reddler was pulling her field pack off her shoulders. Her hair was in a mess, and she looked tired. But she seemed okay. Jeffrey sighed, and leaned against the wall. He started to say something, but stopped short.

There was blood on the carpet.

He went nearer, and let out a breath. There was a bad cut on her leg, near her ankle. Her ecru trousers had been dyed red, and blood spilled on to her white sneakers.

He crouched down near her to have a better look. Reddler sat on the hall settee, her head leaning on her wall, eyes closed. Jeffrey gently untied the laces and nudged off the bloody sneaker. She made no protest.

He examined the wound for a while, and quietly fetched the first aid box.

As he was wrapping gauze on her leg, she slowly opened her eyes. She looked very, very tired. Jeffrey glanced up from his work.

"Hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes." A pause.

"Then why do you still do it?"

"I have to," she said unblinkingly.

Jeffrey stood up to his full height. "No, you don't," he said. "You can quit."

For a moment, Reddler closed her eyes. Her features trembled, and she looked as if she was going to cry. But no tears came.

She looked at him with desperate eyes.

"I can't."

The next day, Reddler came down to breakfast looking much better. She fixed herself a sandwich and glanced over at the table. Jeffrey was bent over it, studying some large sheets of paper. She cocked her head.

"What are you studying?"

He did not glance up. "Maps," he said.

"Maps?" repeated Reddler, taking a bite of her sandwich. "What d'you use them for?"

"You should know. You're a field agent, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but we use GPS," said Reddler. "Maps seem a bit old fashioned."

Jeffrey turned to face her. "Not at all," he said, taking a sip of coffee. "They cover a large area, and they are very useful in planning field missions."

Reddler shrugged. "I don't know how to read maps. We've never been taught that. I can figure out the simple ones well enough, but not the ones you're reading, with hundreds of reference grids."

Jeffrey shook his head. That was _so_ like Easton. He made his students reliant on technology, but never introduced them to the basics. After all, they were assumed to be geniuses.

But as Jeffrey presumed, Easton had apparently forgotten a very important fact. They were intelligent, no doubt.

But they were _children._

And he had fashioned them into high-risk agents, sending them to some of the most dangerous locations on the planet. They were only goddamn _children_.

"So what d'you need them for anyway? You're on vacation," piped in Reddler.

Jeffrey did not reply. He turned his back on her, and resumed examining the maps.

"…aren't you?" she asked again, narrowing her eyes.

Silence.

"I asked you a _question,_" said Reddler, a little annoyed. This man thought he could answer only when he felt like it! Reddler flared. "I said, I asked…" she repeated petulantly, but was cut short.

"I like to keep myself up to date," snapped Jeffrey.

Reddler was about to retort, when the phone rang. Jeffrey went over and picked it up.

"Croft residence," he said.

"Please put Miss Croft on the line. David Easton would like to speak with her," said a soft, female voice.

Before Jeffrey could reply, there was a hum. He heard faint chimes.

"Is it for me?" asked Reddler.

"Shh..." He motioned her to be quiet. She crossed her arms.

"I _know_ it's for me," she said, coming towards him.

The chimes stopped abruptly, and a gruff voice spoke.

"Croft? Are you on?"

"No, Easton."

Reddler panicked. "Are you crazy? Gimme that!" She lunged for the phone, but Jeffrey warded her off.

"What?" sputtered Easton. "Then who the hell… wait a sec, I know that voice…" there was a long pause.

"Martin?"

Jeffrey gritted his teeth. "Hello, Easton."

"Jeffrey Martin…I hadn't heard of you for a long time. Where have you been, _old friend_?"

Jeffrey could make out Easton's efforts to keep his voice even.

"Oh, I've been traveling. A lot."

"I presume you're on business here?"

"I'm keeping house for Mr. Croft while he's away."

There was a snort. "The great Jeffrey Martin keeping house? Now if I had a nickel for…," he stopped short. "Ah hell, Martin. Good to hear of you. Anyway, tell Croft that the group assignment is due tomorrow, and she'd better get the fix fast."

"What fix?"

"She'll know."

The line went dead. Jeffrey stared at the receiver for a few seconds, and hung up.

"Friendly chap; _isn't_ he?" he muttered under his breath.

Reddler gulped. _Oh, shit. Easton's gonna kill me on my next field mission…trust Jeffrey to screw it all up…_

"So what did he say?" she asked.

Jeffrey repeated the message. She said nothing, but began to stuff her field pack.

"Where are you going?"

"To get that fix," she said. She went to counter and picked up her laptop. Jeffrey noticed that she was limping slightly.

He turned to her. "Get some rest. You're hurt, remember?"

Reddler was busy getting a large black bag from the hall closet. "Assignment's not gonna get itself done," she muttered.

Jeffrey put his cup down. "I'm coming with you."

Reddler stopped, a queer look on her face. "Fine. You're driving." She tossed him the keys to the Lamborghini.

David Easton put the phone back into its cradle and leaned back in his chair. He had maniacal smile on his face, and his cold brown eyes were enough to send a chill down anyone's spine. There was a knock on his door, and in came a tall European with his hair in a ponytail. He pulled up his shades above his head and looked at Easton.

"Are we still on?" he asked. He pronounced the 'we' as 'vee'.

"Yes. Get ready. And get some backup as well. I have a feeling you'll need it," said Easton, with a wild smirk on his face.

The man turned to go.

"Vitya?" said Easton.

The man glanced back, his hand on the doorknob.

"Get a damn haircut," said Easton smugly.

The door slammed.

The Lamborghini drove into the heart of the Appalachians, skirting its wild curves. Reddler sat with her head in her hand against the window. She looked very bored.

"Can I drive?" she asked.

"No."

"_May _I drive?"

"No."

"You know, when I said 'you're driving', I didn't mean all the way to Honolulu."

He crinkled his eyes against the sun. "You're not driving."

"But I _al_ways drive! Always! This is _so _not fair!" she whined.

Jeffrey frowned. "You're thirteen, Reddler."

"You don't have to tell me how old I am! And I do have a license, if that's what's bothering you."

"A license? Is that legal?"

"Sure. All field agents have one."

Jeffrey thought for a moment. "Well, you're not doing any stunts while _I'm_ around," he said.

"Not fair!"

"Get used to it," he said impatiently.

"That's not very polite."

Jeffrey shook his head. He just couldn't help liking this impudent little girl, who could argue with almost anyone on the planet. He watched the wind buffet her soft burgundy hair left and right. _Hey, it glows red in the daylight! _ The warm morning sunshine shone on her pale pink face and lily-white hands. She looked like an angel with a red halo on her head. _And a pout, _he thought with a smile. Jeffrey suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for her.

Half an hour later, he pulled the car up to the side of the road. There was a small stretch of earth hugging the road, overlooking the steep gorge. The scenery was breathtaking. He drank in the fresh mountain air and surveyed the picture perfect view and a rather precarious drop to the leeward side of the mountain.

Reddler took out the black bag and set her GPS and the aerials in position. Watching her ply the jerry-rigged sextant and setting up the complicated mass of cables jolted him back to the present. He suddenly became aware of their deserted surroundings. A vague sense of uneasiness crept over him. They were very vulnerable out here. If someone blocked the roadway, they'd have no other way to go.

He instinctively moved over to Reddler.

"How long is this going to take?"

"Umm… I dunno," she replied somewhat distractedly, setting the chronometer on her watch.

Jeffrey looked around him. There were cables and scientific paraphernalia of all sorts lying before him.

"So… what is this fix about?"

"Oh, I have to figure out some latitude grids from the stroboscopic movements of the..." she paused, looking at his blank face. She sighed. "It's just some navigation stuff."

"I see," said Jeffrey, nodding. _Navigation stuff._

Reddler went to her laptop, typed some keys and came back and waited for a few moments in silence. The chronometer beeped, and she went back to her laptop. She snapped it shut after a while, and began unhooking the aerials.

"I'm done," she said. Jeffrey nodded, rolling up the cables. He was glad. This place sure had the scenic stuff, but it made him very uncomfortable, somehow. He put them in the black bag, and frowned.

"Couldn't you have done all of this at home?"

"No, there's this thing about minimum elevation, and…it's done, anyway."

He sat on the hood of the car, waiting for Reddler to finish packing the fish-eye lens telescopic camera. _Easton sure piles the_ _gadgets on them_, he observed. _I wonder if he's planning something, because—_

He stopped short. He heard a faint whirring sound in the distance. He jumped off the car and looked back.

_It's only a car._

A dark blue Audi with tinted windows cruised down the road and disappeared down the bend. The whirring sound abruptly vanished. Jeffrey squinted, acutely aware of what was happening.

They had stopped round the bend.

His hands dug into his pockets, and he backtracked to Reddler, who was oblivious to what was going on.

"Get in the car," he said quietly.

"But I haven't fin—hey!"

Jeffrey held her arm and led her towards the car, his eyes glancing left and right. There was no one in sight. Reddler wrenched herself out of his grip.

"At least let me get my bag!" she said. "_Jeez._"

Reddler quickly marched back to the spot and gathered her things. She turned around, and stopped.

"Jeffrey…"

Two men were walking down the road from the bend. They came towards them, one of them sporting a menacing smile. Both of them had guns in their hands. No wonder Jeffrey made no move to escape, thought Reddler.

Jeffrey's hand disappeared under his jacket. Reddler watched him, fear knotting her stomach. His face showed no signs of fear whatsoever, only a bored smirk. She _hoped _he was as confident as he displayed himself. She had faced much worse situations before, but this one somehow made her feel giddy with fear.

Jeffrey raised his chin up. "Anything I can do to help, gentlemen?" his voice was polite, but he spoke to them as if they were two lowly ants. The man who answered had blond-white hair in a ponytail.

"Ay, Martin! I heard about you," he tilted his head and looked at Reddler. "Busy? Too bad."

She didn't reply. Jeffrey narrowed his eyes. "Actually, we were just leaving."

The man guffawed. "You're not going anywhere, Martin. But she is," he said. Reddler noticed that he called Martin 'Marcein'.

He took a step towards her. Instantly Jeffrey landed a deft punch on his face. His expression never changed.

"Too bad, Martin. You'll just have to go," he spat, sprawling on the ground.

Jeffrey slid into combat stance, drawing out his handgun.

"Run," he said to Reddler. "And don't turn around."

Reddler stood rooted to the spot. Her brain seemed to have stopped functioning.

"Reddler!" he barked.

_Might as well do this without brains_. She dropped the bag, loping into a quick run towards the bend.

"Get her!" shouted the man, clambering up. His crony immediately set pace after her.

Reddler knew that he would have no problem outrunning her. Her boots crunched on the gravel. _Damn these heels…_

As soon as she reached the bend, her hand dove to her waist, under her top. In a quick motion, she got her gun and cocked it.

She saw the blue Audi parked nearby. Almost reflexively she emptied a round of shots into the tires. As the car sagged with its own weight, Reddler reloaded the gun. And then she realized what a terrible mistake it had been.

He knew now that she was armed. He would be more careful.

_Damn… just what I need, _she groaned.

She positioned herself after a quick survey. Hugging the hillside, she waited for the man to come round the bend. An overhang of earth blocked her view, but she couldn't risk craning her neck for a better look.

The seconds ticked by. Reddler was sweating, and the gun kept slipping from her grip. At last, she slowly leaned out to take a small peek. At that moment she heard a sound under her, and as she looked down, she was yanked from her feet and thrown off the ground. Her head hit rock and she saw stars. _He must have crawled over on his hands and knees, and I didn't think of looking down._

_I must be getting old._

As she struggled to get her bearings she saw the man bending down to pick up her gun, and checking the magazine. He grinned. "Stupid girl. Don't bring gun if you can't use one." He had a thick accent. Definitely Russian, thought Reddler. Or Latvian. Her vision cleared, and she slowly focused on her situation. Without weapons, she was helpless. Smart talk wouldn't do the trick with someone who couldn't understand her well. And this guy looked like he had no time for the yak.

Without warning, Reddler got up and tried to run for it, but she never got any farther than a step. The Russian's strong arms held her back and pinned her to the gravel.

Reddler struggled, clawing at him, trying to break free. The man cursed an incomprehensible string of words, and for all her efforts, Reddler got a resounding whack on her head that made her eyes tear. She felt as though she were trapped in a nightmare. The man bristled, gearing up for another punch. Reddler shut her eyes, waiting for the blow to land.

But it never came. The man let go of her arms, puzzled by a shadow that fell over both of them. He started to turn, but didn't glance back more than a degree when Jeffrey slammed an elbow strike, an _otoshi hiji-ate_, at the base of his neck. He slumped to the ground.

Reddler realized that she had stopped breathing.

Jeffrey helped her to her feet. "Did he hurt you?"

"I did take a punch," she said, dusting her top.

"You'll survive. Let's get out of here."

"What about the other one? Did you kill him?"

Jeffrey grinned. "No, but he'll be asleep for a long time, I'm afraid."

Reddler could see the man lying spread-eagled on the roadside, mottled bruises on his forehead and chin. Still shaking, she retrieved her gun and field pack and got into the passenger's seat as fast as she could.

As they moved out to the next string of snaky roads, Jeffrey suddenly stopped. Reddler whipped out her binoculars. They could see the bend some eighty feet below them. A number of black cars had assembled at the spot, and some guys were helping the men up.

"Backup," muttered Jeffrey grimly.

But Reddler was silent, her eyes glued to her binoculars. She frantically set the magnification to maximum, and diverted the feed to her laptop. Putting them down to her lap, she crossed her arms, deep in thought. After a while, she looked up again.

"Jeffrey, drive. _Now._"

Without a word, he revved up the engine and the car moved out with blinding speed.

Jeffrey was worried. Reddler had been silently staring at the monitor for at least an hour. He glanced at her, and something shiny caught his eye. It was a brand new Smith&Wesson 6906 poking out from underneath her top. He remembered the shots he had heard. Reddler had probably disabled their getaway vehicle, as per her training. But he also noticed something that made him frown.

"Is that yours?" he asked, pointing to her waist.

Reddler absent-mindedly touched her gun, feeling its smooth curves. "Hmm? Yeah, it's mine."

"Bring it out."

She complied without a word, handing it to him by the barrel. He took it, and in a single fluid motion turned the safety on and handed it back.

"You could have shot yourself with that thing, you know." Reddler did not respond. Instead, she stared out of the window, deep in thought.

"We were ambushed," she said suddenly. Her voice was quiet, but angry.

"I know."

"Look at this," she said, handing him her slim laptop. Jeffrey parked the car, and looked at pictures closely. It showed three close-ups of the black backup cars, and two side shots of their assaulters.

"I know this guy," he said, tapping the screen lightly. He magnified the image two-fold, and the face of the European with long blond hair filled half of the screen. "His name is Vitya Kayakova. Ex-mafia, with quite a reputation. We've tried to stake him out a couple of times. I suppose he's in for more specialized jobs now.

"And his partner," he mused, looking at the lean, roguish face of the person who had chased Reddler. He had dirty brown hair, and a diagonal scar ran down his chin. "I'm not sure about him, but…maybe it's Demichev. Georgiy Demichev. Vitya always teams up with him. They're not very smart, but with a stash of guns, they can be quite dangerous."

"I meant the cars. Look at the cars," said Reddler.

He concentrated on them, but couldn't recognize them. He shook his head.

"That's Easton's car," she said quietly. "And the other one—the one with the bazooka mounted on it—that belongs to the Symbiosis Field Missions department. The ones on the left are ours, too. I've driven almost all of them…" She struggled for words. "Easton set me up. That asshole wants me dead."

Jeffrey's face was unresponsive for a while. Then he took a deep breath.

"No. Easton doesn't want to kill you."

"Then who does?"

"Nobody wants to _kill _you. That Russian fellow would have simply shot a fast double tap if he wanted you dead. No, no. Easton wants you…maybe he was planning a kidnapping, but by the looks of it, definitely not a grisly murder."

The black Jaguar skirted the slopes of the Appalachians at a modest speed. In the back seat, Georgiy Demichev sat up groggily and unfastened his seat belt.

"Uhh..." he grunted, rubbing his neck. "The next time I see that bastard, I break his neck like…like chicken!"

Vitya didn't answer. He cradled his gun in his hand and scowled at Georgiy.

"You screwed it. The boss will not be easy on you," said Georgiy.

"Reinforcements come too late. That's not my fault, is it?" snapped vitya.

Georgiy was silent, but his face was troubled.

Vitya smirked. "This is not over yet," he said. "If we don't get her, _they _will. She won't escape."

He narrowed his eyes at the gun.


	3. the stranger

_The Stranger_

Reddler at the counter, finishing up her report. The printer beeped as the pages fell to the floor. She ignored them.

Jeffrey Martin sat facing her, examining his guns.

_Beretta 92SBF. Heckler&Koch P7M8. _Reddler had memorized the workings of hundreds of weapons long ago, when she had been first assigned to field missions.

She tried to concentrate on her work. Outside, thunder rumbled heavily. A cold, sharp pre-shower breeze wafted in. The night grew even darker.

"I've never seen you use a gun," she said, putting her pencil down. "I'm curious…do you use it at all?"

"I do, but only as a last resort," said Jeffrey, loading a fresh magazine. "I don't like to kill people."

"Not even the bad guys?"

"No. I'd rather incapacitate them, not kill."

"Very Zen. So you're like a classy martial arts guy?"

"I could be."

Reddler shut her laptop. "Cool! Can you show me some moves?"

"Maybe some other time," he said, putting the guns back into the sling. "There are some things I'd like to sort out."

"Let me guess," she said, sarcastically. "Why did those loons chase us? Ooh, tough one."

He took a deep breath and settled back in his chair. "Quiet, I'm thinking."

When he opened his eyes, he spied her with both hands on her mouth, rocking in silent laughter.

"What's so funny?" he said, glaring at her.

"I'm sorry," she said, gasping for air. "You look like a monk when you do that. And a very stupid one at that."

Jeffrey scowled. That made her explode into peals of laughter.

She stopped abruptly. "Hey, I remember now…you did take out your gun when Kayakova approached us, didn't you? How come you didn't use it on him?"

"It's an old trick. You take out a gun, so does he, and everyone's in for a gunfight. He doesn't expect fancy kicks and moves, just some pretty darn good shooting. So you take aim, and he's ready to pull the trigger, when you dodge and land a flying kick and he falls flat on his face. Simple, really."

"And that works? You'd have to be pretty dumb to fall for that."

Jeffrey grinned. "That's not a problem with Vitya Kayakova," he said.

Reddler smiled. Thank heavens Easton chose someone so lousy to kidnap her. Most of the assailants she'd helped capture were very smart. And very fast.

_Coincidence?_

She bent down to pick up the printouts when she heard soft, consistent beeps.

Reddler froze. She knew that sound only too well.

"What's that?" asked Jeffrey.

"Perimeter alarm," she said, getting up. But it was much more than that. Reddler had updated every security system on the estate herself. She'd fined-tuned every parameter and set the various alarms in concentric circles. And the sound she just heard was that of the _final_ alarm. The closest circle. Whoever—or whatever had triggered it was inside the chateau, or at least very close.

She paced the kitchen with a puzzled look on her face. All the cameras and motion sensors had looping programs. The complex network of multidirectional commands was almost impossible to override. No one had the technology to do that, except for herself, of course. No one else could do it.

_Or could they?_

The final alarm had been set off, without the ones that should have preceded it. That meant someone had broken into her system and bypassed all the alarms, except for the last one. She scowled.

In the seconds that Reddler stood analyzing the situation, Jeffrey had already begun to move. Cocking his handgun, he stood very still, listening. There was no sound except that of the overhead thunder.

"I think our friends have decided to pay us a visit," he said.

Reddler wasn't so sure. Vitya and his cronies were too dumb to figure out their security systems. It had to be someone smart.

Helluva smart guy.

She went across the kitchen, opening the walk-in freezer. She disappeared in its soft blue glow for while, and then came out with two air guns. She tossed one over to Jeffrey.

"Linstradt," he said, grinning at the gun in his hand. "This I'm going to enjoy."

Both of them walked up the kitchen stairs and crouched in the landing above the hall. The door was open, swinging side to side in the wind. Reddler moved a few centimeters away, and lying flat on her stomach, tried to have a better look. There in the doorway, silhouetted against the soft rain-glow, was a very large man.

Reddler's mouth dropped. He was so huge; he could hardly be called a man. Surprise, surprise, he had gun in his hand. She squinted to make out its outline. _Sig Sauer, 9mm. _Damn.

Serious weapon.

Reddler frowned. From where Jeffrey was positioned, he wouldn't have a clear view of his adversary.

_Who?_ , mouthed Jeffrey.

"It's not him. Not vitya," whispered Reddler. At that very moment, there was an ear-shattering thunderclap. Jeffrey strained to hear her reply, but all he could get wind of was '_It's …him…itya'._ He smiled. So it was Vitya, he thought. Well, I'll take him down the easy way.

Reddler saw him smile. _No, no, he didn't hear me!_ To her horror, she watched him get up and stride down the stairs. She tried to warn him, but he was already speaking.

"Vitya," he said, in a deep, prophetic voice. "You've made a very bad move."

The mountain in the hall cocked his head. "My name is not Vitya," he said in an even tone.

As soon as he said that, Jeffrey clutched his arm and fell face first down the stairs.

Reddler's jaw dropped. _What just happened? What—what is going on? How could he get shot when that—that lump didn't move a muscle?_

Her eyes darted to Jeffrey's body at the foot of the stairwell. He appeared to be uninjured. _Sedative_, said her brain. She noticed a slight shimmer near his knee. Heat haze? _It's freezing in here…_

She turned to the man in the hallway. At that instant, he turned his head upwards and met her eye. She didn't pause to think. Whirling backwards, she ran. Reaching the kitchen, she saw a shadow near the counter. She tightened her grip on the Linstradt, and inched forward.

Reddler's eyes widened at what appeared to be a very amused vampire, studying her nav. report with a smirk on his face.

As she came in, he looked up at her. He had raven hair and very pale skin. She realized that he must be quite near to her age. But somehow, the sight of him chilled her to the bone.

She held up her Linstradt and started to walk towards him, but he held her in his unflinching gaze. Suddenly Reddler felt a jab at her leg, and tripped forward. The Linstradt slid on to the floor, spinning towards him.

_What did I trip over? There's nothing here but bare floor…there's that shimmer again…I should really get my eyes checked._

The boy casually cradled the air gun. "You really shouldn't get a gun if you don't know how to handle it." His voice was icy.

"Déjà vu," muttered Reddler as she pulled herself up. She poised for a forward tackle, but before she could make a move, something slammed into her, knocking her breath out. She hit the marble bottom of the counter, and something sharp hit her ribs. She almost cried out in pain, when she spied the man mountain perched on top of her, pulling something out of his pocket.

Addled with pain, Reddler felt the world tilt underneath her. She could taste blood in every painful breath. The raven-haired boy came over and crouched by her.

And then she felt the rain patter. It was so loud she half thought it was drumming on her head.

She felt the shimmer above her, and wondered if she should puzzle over it.

But she was spared that decision, as she next felt the sedative needle on her carotid, and there was a sharp sting.

She felt the boy's very blue eyes on her.

And then she felt darkness.

_The ceiling is very low._

That was Reddler's first thought when she opened her eyes. She felt extremely sleepy and warm. She wanted to float back to sleep, when her brain started to gear up and she felt a tinge of alarm. She started to remember… an attack on the chateau…Jeffrey lying at the bottom of the stairs, his knee at a wacky angle…a heat haze…and blue eyes.

_Why is the ceiling so low?_ , she thought for the second time. She felt groggy and her brain struggled to keep pace.

_I must be in a cellar…or a very cramped dungeon. _

And then Reddler felt the hum. It seemed to vibrate in the air. A quiet, mechanical hum. She felt it on her bunk, running lightly along her back. She then realized where she was.

_A plane! I'm on a plane!_

She started to get up, but felt a stab of pain in her ribs. Somewhere in the area of her left lung. It felt so intense after such a long time of restful sleep that she let out a whimper, falling back on the bunk.

"Do you need help?" said a deep, quiet voice at her side.

Reddler turned, and saw the huge man crouching down near her. She remembered the sedative at her neck, the very sharp sting. She suddenly felt angry.

"Do you want to get up?" he asked again.

Reddler pursed her mouth and remained obstinately silent. She tried to get up again, but the pain was nauseating. She gasped, and her eyes welled up with tears.

_Get up, Reddler! You must look so helpless and stupid by now, _she ordered herself. She felt another wave of nausea.

"All you have to do is ask. Or nod, if you're unable to do that," he said.

Reddler flinched inwardly and wanted very much to retort, but she hadn't the energy.

"Bathroom," she whispered weakly.

The next thing she felt was a huge hand on her back, and another on her shoulder. She was forced to her feet quite efficiently, but not without a few more tears of pain. She tried out her feet, and found that it wasn't so bad when she moved around. The man pointed to a hatch nearby, and she silently went to it and shoved it open.

The bathroom was fabulous, furnished with great taste and splendor. There was a Jacuzzi tub at the corner, and a gold-rimmed sink next to it. Reddler went there and leant against it weakly. She thought she was going to throw up, but she didn't. Instead, she just splashed some water on her face and straightened her hair. Feeling a little better, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She still wore her trademark ecru trousers and sneakers. She had on a linen shirt, but it was crumpled and there were bloodstains on it. She lifted the shirt, and saw red bruises running down her chest. Her ribs were still sore, but there was a fresh bandage over them. The sight of the angry red bruises on her pale skin made her sigh.

Reddler smoothed out the shirt, and looked around her. No doubt her abductors were stinking rich. She decided that the plane was a Lear jet, after a rough estimate of the interiors. She wondered who had tended to her wounds while she was unconscious. Just the thought of one of them _touching_ her made her feel dizzy.

Opening the hatch, she slowly eased herself out, wincing at the pain when she crouched down.

The huge man stood there, waiting. He extended a hand to help her out, but Reddler refused it. Keeping a measured distance from him, she said, "Maybe you should start explaining things a bit."

"I think you should lie down. We'll explain everything when we get there."

"Who's 'we'? And where exactly are we going?"

"I think you should lie down, Miss Croft," he repeated. His tone never changed.

"_I should think not!"_ spat Reddler. As a reflex, she surveyed the room and tried to judge the escape routes. But the quick movements made her sway. She then caught a glimpse of his other hand. It held a fresh syringe. Filled with you can guess what.

"Not again!" she cried, the panic apparent in her voice.

"This is not a sedative," he said calmly, inching forward all the time. "We feel that you've had a bad reaction to the sedative, and it's dousing out the painkiller. And making you…very giddy, I think. It's more or less a countermeasure, mixed with an antipyretic, and you're in dire need of it."

"I don't care if it's the essence of life, I'm not taking it," she said, continuously backing away from him. She felt carpeted wall on her fingertips, and her heart sank. Her brain was moving so slowly she could hardly believe it was hers.

"We think you'll feel better once it's in your system," he said, reaching out to grab her arm.

"Again, who's 'we'?" she said angrily. "I assume the other one must be watching." She pointed to a close-circuit camera mounted near the ceiling. The man did not even spare a glance at it.

"You're very observant," he said, pinning her to the wall.

Reddler felt a jab on her arm, and instantly felt very warm. The floor seemed to melt away. She crumpled down, not heeding the ache down her ribs. Her eyelids felt heavy with sleep.

"You lied," she murmured. "This _is _a sedative."

"No, it isn't. It's only that your body is reacting to it that way." His voice seemed to echo, as if in a very big cavern. His towering figure seemed to grow taller about her, blurred with crazy colors. She distantly felt being lifted to her bunk, and warm covers around her.

"It was still a lie," she managed to whisper, before drifting to sleep.


	4. rendezvous

_Rendezvous _

The next time Reddler woke up, she neither felt neither warm nor comfortable.

She found herself half-sitting, leaning against the wall of a very bare room. Except it wasn't really a room. It was more of a cell. There was nothing in it, except herself and a small camera on the ceiling. Absolutely nothing, not even a window.

Sleep wearing off, she slowly stirred and looked around.

Nothing.

Feeling utterly claustrophobic, she was just about to get up, when she remembered her injury.

Reddler lightly ran her fingers over her shirt, expecting to twinge with pain. But she didn't. Surprised, she lifted her shirt to examine it. There was nothing but smooth skin. She gasped.

_Am I dreaming?_

But she knew that she wasn't. There was a light welt curving its way through her unblemished skin._ So I'm not imagining things._

Her mind worked out the events in its usual logical way.

Conclusion: _either they kept me sedated for days, or they have a miracle cure I don't know about._

She was about to investigate further, when she noticed the camera. Hurriedly, she pulled down her shirt and stood up.

A sudden voice rang out, tinny over the speakers.

"Glad to see you up and about, Miss Croft. How are you feeling?"

Reddler shivered involuntarily when she heard that voice. Straightening herself, she faced the camera.

"A little cramped, thank you. Reflects your hospitality skills, I think."

"They're necessary under the circumstances," said the voice, unperturbed.

"What _circumstances_?" asked Reddler, cocking her head.

There was a small laugh. "_Please_. Miss Croft, don't take me wrongly, but I prefer to study up on my assignments before I actually accomplish them." His tone grew deeper. "I know what you're capable of. Don't put on an innocent act. If there was even a strip of paper in your cell, I'd find you running about my grounds sooner or later. So please don't try to do anything foolish, or I'll make you regret it for the rest of your life." His last words were absolutely venomous.

'I'll_ make _you regret it_…'_ Reddler felt instant annoyance. _Don't you_ _order me around. Nobody orders me around. _

She went back to the corner and sat down. "If you are going to negotiate, you had better do it now," she said calmly.

There was a small click on the speakers, and some soft static. She leant her head against the wall, her brain working speedily at an escape plan. She sighed. Her abductors were definitely not careless. They knew her well, and worked everything to their advantage. Most of her chances depended on her debating skills. She couldn't fight her way out, not with that man mountain in the way.

But she would definitely try. _Hell, I'll try._

And she closed her eyes, reflecting over her defensive moves one by one.

Brushing a burgundy quill out of her eyes, Reddler sighed impatiently. _What's taking him so long?_

She remembered his cold, ruthless eyes. _It's almost ironical,_ she thought. _To have_ _such lovely blue eyes on someone this cruel._ She vaguely felt that she had seen those eyes before. It was impossible to forget their unique color. But her thoughts were clouded, just like a dream. She put her fingertips to her temples, concentrating hard. But she simply couldn't remember.

There was a low whir, and the reinforced steel door in front of her opened. Reddler straightened, but didn't get up.

The huge man entered first, stooping low to enter the cell. He positioned himself halfway across the cell and eyed her warily, as if daring her to come and strike him. Reddler met his gaze evenly.

The raven-haired boy followed him into the cell. He came in so silently that Reddler swore she wouldn't have noticed him if he had decided to come in unannounced. He was perfectly groomed in his attire, slick in a black Versace suit. He had an affected air about him which irritated Reddler instantly.

Putting on a negotiator's air, she spoke first.

"So, are you going to begin by telling me who you are?" her tone was sharp.

"Here are the ground rules, Miss Croft. _You_ don't ask _me _questions. _You_ shall sit tight, listen to what I have to say, and like it or not, answer them," he said, cutting her short.

He rather emphasized on the 'you' and 'me', as if making sure of their status. You_ insect._ Me _overlord of kingdom come_.

Negotiation rule: agree with your arguer. Twist the truth, perhaps, but agree, oh _most_ certainly.

Reddler let out a breath. She nodded, even though on the inside she wanted smack the spoilt brat as hard as she could.

"I think you understand. Before I proceed any further," he said, pacing the cell. "I would like to tell you that I wouldn't have abducted you as such, but if I had used conventional means I'm sure that you would have refused entirely." He had a very strange look across his face, as if he wasn't used to saying sorry._ If that was what he meant_.

Reddler said nothing, staring instead at the wall behind him.

"I have to admit, though," he said after a moment. Reddler noticed that his tone was somewhat softer. "You have a very interesting security system. Multidirectional loops…that's rather clever."

"Yeah, well you hacked into it anyway," she said disinterestedly.

"I _did_ have a little help." He creased his brow.

Reddler now looked straight into his eyes.

"With utmost respect," she said, clenching her teeth. "Will you please get to the damn point?"

His eyes flashed dangerously. "Ground rules, Miss Croft," he reminded, raising a finger. There was a pause. "I want you tell me something," he said, inching closer to her. "What exactly do you have in northern Russia?"

Reddler's eyes narrowed. He could see that she was very, very angry. "You …_monster._ You think I'm going to tell you about that? You bring me here, and expect me to do the world for you," she was trying very hard to control herself. "Well, guess what—I _shan't._"

At that moment, she thought that he might sink his fangs into her neck. But he only straightened, smirking.

"Well, then. If you're not going to tell me, I'll have to resort to more …extreme means."

"What do you mean by that?" cried Reddler, jumping to her feet. The gorilla guy immediately swung himself between her and the boy, his hand on the Sig Sauer.

"You'll see," said the boy, laughing quietly as he went out. "And please do stop your 'I'm-so-helpless' hostage act. It doesn't amuse me."

Reddler was on the move even before the door stopped whirring. Time for some real action. She had calculated that it would take him approximately three minutes and twenty-eight seconds to get back to … wherever he was before. Her entire plan was based on only one assumption—that for three minutes and twenty-eight seconds, the camera would be unmanned. It was a rather silly guess, but she needed the drive.

The camera, as she had noticed when talking to her abductors earlier, was hoisted on a single panel along with the cell lights. Evidently someone had fixed it recently, for the plaster was still fresh. Fresh and _weak. _

Reddler also knew something very essential-- that there had to be an air vent somewhere, because the rest of the cell did not spare even a crack. Backing away as far as she could, she broke into a run and sent a flying kick to the wall for leverage. She pivoted, and her momentum carried her a few feet above the ground. In that fraction of a second, her other foot connected with the camera. It broke, sending a spray of sparks shooting towards the ground. Her kick had dislodged the camera, and it swung downwards, dangling by its cable.

Reddler grinned and rolled over on the ground. She again positioned herself and repeated the maneuver, this time aiming for the ceiling light. It shattered all over the floor. Reddler covered her eyes with her hands and gave them a few seconds to adjust in the pitch-dark cell. Then she got moving again. Guided entirely by touch, she kicked at the wall again, and this time caught the camera cable. She feared that it wouldn't hold her weight, so she shifted, one hand grabbing at the socket of the ceiling light and the other at the hole from where the camera cable snaked its way downwards.

Then she gritted her teeth and pulled with all her might.

The panel gave way and fell to the floor, crashing down on her. Reddler moaned, rubbing her shoulder. _Forty-five seconds and counting._

She stood up and looked upwards. There was gaping two and a half foot-wide vertical vent above her head. A bunch of wires from the ceiling light swayed to and fro within her reach.

_Better and better,_ thought Reddler. She quickly shinned upwards, distributing her weight between the camera cable and the lighting wires so that it would hold. When she reached the vent, she gingerly touched its sides. It was unevenly layered with cement, as if made in a hurry. Guiding her feet through inch-wide crevices, she climbed up with practiced ease.

When she reached the top, she was surprised to reach a bend. Her head bumped on the roof of the vent. She reached out and felt wood. It was a light balsa paneling. Unhesitatingly, she punched a hole through it and broke away its sides to make the crack bigger.

_One minute, thirty-three seconds and counting._

Reddler crawled into the paneling, and felt more wires. In fact, a whole bunch of them ran parallel to her side. But something was different…

She fingered at them and realized that they were fiber-optic cables. For a whole network of computers.

_So that's where you're hiding, you little brat, _thought Reddler as she spied a hint of light where the cables entered a room.

She crawled as fast as she could in the opposite direction. At times she feared the paneling wouldn't hold, and had to slow her pace. There was a maze of cable vents, and she had no idea where to go next, but pushed forward blindly. _Two minutes and counting…won't be long now…_

Reddler stopped and tapped at the wood. She felt a slight vibration on the other side, but there was only one branch of cable bifurcating in that direction. Hungry and suffocating, Reddler took a wild chance. She braced herself against the vent wall and kicked at the paneling. It cracked, and there was an enormous crash.

Breathing the fresh, sweet air that filtered through, she stuck her head out and found herself in a big room, more of a lounge. She was suspended some seven feet from the floor, and on the floor itself were the broken bits and shards of what might have been a wide console. Gathering all her strength, she leaped out. The bits of glass cracked under her sneakers.

Reddler straightened and looked around. The lounge was empty, but it was tastefully decorated. She collapsed on the couch. All energy seemed to have drained out of her. She was awfully hungry, too. She couldn't even remember when she ate last.

Reddler moaned and rubbed her shoulder, which was still sore. Her mind was spinning.

Her brain never stopped thinking while she had concentrated on her escape. She was struck when she had met the boy, although she hadn't shown it.

_He had an Irish accent. Oh, god._

She prayed that she wasn't in Ireland. It was entirely possible, though. She had no idea of the duration of the flight, or what time it was. All she could do was hope.

But even then she could feel the terror rising in her.

The second thing that she puzzled over was how he could ever know that she had something very important in Russia.

When Reddler had turned eleven, her father had 'given' her one of his industrial sectors near Minsk, a small factory that was losing capital. He didn't mean anything serious, just asking her if she wanted to try and do something for it. Reddler jumped at the idea. She gathered a team and went there to have quick survey.

Within two months, it was back in business.

Mr. Croft had been so pleased that he instantly handed her the deeds to the sector, no questions asked.

And so for years Reddler continued to earn her father millions of dollars from the small sector in the Arctic Circle. But Mr. Croft had no idea what _exactly _his daughter was doing to earn such phenomenal dividends; he was too busy to give it much thought. After all, he had always had billions in his account. He never bothered to find out where every dollar in them was coming from.

But Reddler knew that he would certainly flip if he ever got wind of some of her projects.

Symbiosis field agents were given portable scanners to take with themselves on field missions. They were mostly used to get 3-D blueprints of buildings and underground sites, like metros and drainage systems. But x-ray scans were hazardous, and infra-red scans were extremely slow. Reddler was exasperated. She often got very annoyed waiting for every person to evacuate the building to start her scans, and very bored when working with the infra-red ones. So she secretly devised a quick plan. She made the scans _nuclear._ She used radioactive isotopes with extremely short half-lives which emitted unimaginably powerful directional waves, dying out in nanoseconds. After much field-testing, she decided to sell her patent, even though it was forbidden by Symbiosis. But manufacture was still a problem.

Almost as an answer to her prayer, an entire industrial sector was handed to her.

She was no fool. She couldn't risk selling her patent to some power-crazed industrialist. So she sold it off to a Chilean research unit. They would use it for purely scientific purposes, mostly astronomy and global warming research. Much pleased with herself, Reddler continued manufacture. Northern Russia had huge deposits of heavy metals, and they went in as raw materials for nuclear scan setup.

All of this was done in top secret. Not a soul knew what she was doing. Even the Chilean buyers had no idea that the hi-tech scans they were using were invented by an eleven-year-old girl.

So how could something that had been kept a secret for two years be known, of all people, by that infuriating boy?

She bit her lip, remembering the constant shimmer above his shoulder. _Maybe he's so full of hot air that he's got a localized heat haze all to himself,_ she mused with a small smile.

Reddler got to her feet after a few seconds, searching for an exit. There was a window in the far corner of the room, surrounded by enormous damask drapes that now billowed in the stormy breeze. As she moved towards it, she could smell the earthy aroma of nightly rain. She nimbly tore down the slatted Venetian blinds, and was just about to climb on to the sill, when something caught her eye. There was a small framed photograph on the coffee table near the window. Her trembling hands still gripping the window; she stared at the photo in disbelief. A beautiful woman smiled demurely holding a pair of pearl-colored gloves in her hand. She had lovely raven hair, just like the boy. Behind her was the grand Notre-Dame, but that didn't hold Reddler's attention in the least.

What shocked her was the man who stood at her side, his hands on her shoulder.

Reddler slowly moved to the table and clutched the photo in her clammy hands. She felt as though she was trapped in a nightmare. Time seemed to spin backwards and out of control.

_It's him…oh, god…the murderer…I'm in his house. _

_Oh, god. Oh, god._

_The monster…_

_His house…_

Reddler felt terribly lightheaded. She simply stood there paralyzed. Her mind felt as heavy as lead. She forgot what she had been doing, forgot who she was, forgot everything else. She gripped the frame so hard that the glass cracked under her fingers and the shards pierced her hands. The window was open, and the cold breeze carried with it a light spray of rain. Reddler stared at it dumbly.

_That _day,_ that_ moment came to her over and over and over again.

She couldn't see. She couldn't _breathe_.

She cried out, hurling the frame to the ground. There was a dull, pounding ache in her chest that grew heavier with every second. The floor seemed to give way. She dropped to the ground weakly.

Everything seemed cold and dark. The ache in her chest was burning hot.

_I'm in his house._

_He won't let me out._

There was the sharp ringing of several alarms, and the almost deafening sound of hurrying feet.

On the floor, Reddler doubled over and screamed and screamed.


	5. defiance: broken

_Defiance: Broken_

Artemis Fowl ran a hand through his raven hair as he walked away from the cell. He frowned. There was something very wrong with the current situation. He seemed lost in thought when the large Eurasian manservant approached him.

"Artemis?" he said, gently laying a hand on his employer's shoulder.

"Hmm…what is it, Butler?"

"I think we're being a little too harsh," said Butler slowly.

Artemis stopped. "I know, I know. But we have no choice. She is incredibly intelligent. You could almost see it in her eyes…" his voice trailed off.

Butler looked puzzled. He cleared his throat. Artemis suddenly snapped back to his professional self.

"I've read about her antics, Butler. Believe me; it won't pay to underestimate _her._"

Butler nodded solemnly. He knew exactly what underestimation could lead to.

_Know thine enemy _had been the motto throughout the Fowl generations. But Artemis had to admit somewhat grudgingly, that he had been rather lenient on that aspect on one occasion, and it cost him more than just sleepless nights.

Artemis had been so wrapped in his dealings with Jon Spiro and the C Cube that he neglected to update on his usual follow-up on the movements of Britva and his Mafiya cronies who had once kidnapped his father, Artemis Fowl Senior. He completely forgot that a ruthless man such as Britva would never go easy on anyone who had tricked him.

When Artemis' father set out for one of his business trips to central Dublin, Britva had his cronies waylay his limousine and abducted him. Again.

The message he sent Artemis was nowhere near comforting. This time it was fast money or chop, chop. There was also a five –second video of one of his hostage's fate. It took Artemis a week to get that gruesome clip out of his brain. He was forced to resort to his usual plan, asking the People for help. He spent valuable time trying to convince the council to lend him a hand, and finally his efforts saw light. The council provided him with their finest reconnaissance unit, and out he went with them to the heart of Russia.

But unfortunately the mission went terribly wrong. Britva had anticipated them somehow, and in a fine show of fury, shot Artemis Senior's bodyguard, one of the Butlers. In trying to help, the Recon squad's leader Trouble Kelp was trapped along with the hostage. Britva didn't know of it, but there was not much Trouble could do. His strength as well as his magic was sapping fast in the radiation-laden environment. He was growing weaker with every passing minute.

With a double-hostage situation in his hand, Artemis could do nothing but retreat and await further orders.

Their latest demand had been quite surprising. Fifteen million US dollars _and _an American girl. A thirteen-year old American girl.

Artemis ran manifold internet searches on his target, as was his usual line of action. At first the search turned up almost nothing. "Reddler Croft" only showed inventories of logging companies, the Britannica dictionary homepage and mundane rock bands. After several exasperating attempts, he had Foaly set up a fine-tune search, and the results were astonishing. All of Reddler Croft's files were encrypted. Even Foaly admitted that Symbiosis, Inc. had taken great pains to make sure none of her files were revealed on the internet.

For two whole days, Artemis Fowl read up as much as he could on the Croft girl. Her credits were phenomenal. Artemis was impressed. Her field plans and patents were ingenious; and her security programming was unparalleled in precision. It took Foaly several sleepless nights to figure out the access codes to their chateau. The last parameter was _impossible_. It would be up to Artemis to improvise.

Apparently Britva had someone powerful lending him a hand on the American side. Try as he might, Artemis had no idea who that was, and neither did Foaly.

The Croft girl had something in Russia which Britva had got wind of, and wanted very desperately. Obviously it didn't take a brainer to figure out that there were big bucks involved.

Already the situation was too messed up, as Juliet Butler would have put it. It had too many complications. Artemis didn't like the fact that his hostage was actually capable of outwitting him.

Not to mention that she was the most exotic creature that he had ever laid eyes upon. The most exotic, _and _very wily.

He doubted if he liked the combination.

"Even so, she is but a mere human," said Captain Holly Short, sliding into visible spectrum above Artemis' shoulder. "Don't let your tormented thoughts run away with you, Fowl."

They entered the study, and at once Artemis' gaze flew to the surveillance monitor.

There was nothing on it, except for a blur of screen snow.

And at that very moment, there was a huge crash.

Artemis raised an eyebrow at Holly. "You were saying?" he said.

Butler was frantically scanning the estate's various security view cams, as per Artemis' orders.

"She's not on the grounds," he said.

"Then she's still in the house," said Artemis, looking very uneasy. He stepped out of the study, with Butler and Holly trailing him. He ran to the cell and punched in the codes to the door. The door opened noiselessly, and they gingerly stepped in.

In the pale light filtering from the corridor, they saw a mass of debris on the floor. The camera was smashed to bits, along with the ceiling light. The freely dangling camera cable caught Butler's eye, and he shifted his gaze upwards.

"Why, the cunning…" he breathed.

Artemis and Holly followed his gaze, until their eyes rested on the gaping vent. Butler played his flashlight through it, and it caught the splintered remains of the cable side-vent.

Artemis narrowed his eyes.

"Butler, sound the alarm. Put the auto-locks in place. We have to make sure she doesn't escape," he ordered sharply, stumbling into the corridor in rage.

Butler was about to comply, but he stopped.

There was a sound of breaking glass.

And then a scream pierced the silence. It went on and on and on.

The three of them broke into a run. Butler halted for half a second to set the alarms and trackers, and then led the way to the lounge.

Reddler opened her eyes one at a time. She found herself lying in a fetal position on a narrow bunk. Back in the blasted cell. _Oh, for joy._ Her head spun as the flurry of preceding events struck her like a guillotine. Wave after wave of nausea washed over her and forced her back to the pillow.

Reddler gasped. There was a strange, sickly sadness inside her. She felt empty, as if her insides had been forked out.

Empty and cold.

The grief hung about like a heavy veil. The Terror lay underneath.

Waiting, always waiting.

She started as the door suddenly whirred open. In the sharp contrast of the mended cell lights, she saw Butler come in with a tray of food. At the sight of him, the grief seemed to flee in an instant, replaced by The Terror. She instinctively moved back, but there was nowhere to go. Her body almost merging with the wall, she watched him with her quivering blue eyes.

Butler set the tray of food down and crossed the length of the cramped little cell and sat down on his haunches near the bunk.

He said nothing for a moment, but studied the huddled figure before him.

_My, is her face defiant_.

But in her eyes was extreme fear, and her entire body trembled as he came closer.

_Why is she so afraid?_ Butler had seen fear before, but this was different. This was absolute terror.

_Why?_

"You must be hungry," he said gently.

She said nothing, but her eyes never left him.

"You're going to make yourself ill if you keep at it. I suggest you have a bite to eat, and then come down to the conference room. Artemis wants to have a talk with you."

No response. She didn't even blink. Butler sighed, and waved a hand to brush away an errant strand of burgundy hair that fell on her face. But as soon as his fingers touched her skin, she leapt back like a singed cat and cowered at a corner. Butler immediately drew his gun to defend the exit, but put it down as soon as he realized that she was not in an attacking stance, and that his action had frightened her further. She was actually trying to _escape_ from him. Butler was puzzled. He wondered what Master Artemis was thinking, watching the entire scene through the newly installed camera on the reinforced lattice grille that now covered the ceiling vent. No instructions on the earpiece.

_I guess I'm on my own_, thought Butler.

He put the gun back in his pocket and went over to her with his hands in the air.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you. Will you please listen to me?" his military tone seemed harsh even to him.

Reddler put her head into her hands as she silently crouched at the far end of the bunk.

"Reddler," said Butler softly. "What's wrong?"

She sat at the corner, the furthest possible distance from Butler. Slowly she raised her head and sighed.

"What isn't? I guess I have no other choice but to submit to this…" her voice was ragged and defeated. Butler studied her intently as she spoke. Her eyes were locked in space, but he noted the exhaustion in them.

_Flashback: three years earlier _

Eleven-year old Reddler nimbly skipped down the steps of her father's private jetliner and took a minute to stretch herself. Irish breeze sometimes carries with it the smell of the sea, and the one that sifted through the terminal of the Dublin airport certainly did. It blew Reddler's hair into riotous curls as she beckoned to her best friend behind her.

"Are we moving, or what?" she shouted over the drone of the jet.

"Slow down, Red. We'll be back in Manhattan in the afternoon at this rate," said the tall, blond-haired boy, grinning. He shifted his field pack to his shoulder and adjusted his favorite Ferrogamo shades on his head.

Reddler scowled. "Lamer, pal," she remarked. The boy shrugged, smiling. A year older than Reddler, Eric Shaw was tall, athletic and extremely good-humored. He had piercing blue-gray eyes and an air of deep, quiet intelligence about him.

Reddler followed him to the terminal's executive car park. She tossed her things at the back of his BMW and settled in at the front seat. Eric came over and took the wheel. He was about to swerve the car in quick reverse, when he noticed his partner's face.

"What's wrong, girl?" he asked, switching off the ignition and shifting to face her.

Reddler wasn't looking at him. "I don't know, Eric. I get a weird feeling about this entire business. Why do we have to stay at a criminal lord's mansion anyway? We could always stay at the Hyatt, or…"

Eric nodded slowly. "I read you, Red. Artemis Fowl is a criminal, but he's also powerful. We could do with some help from him. And not staying over at his place sends out an 'I-don't-trust you' vibe, don't you think?" he asked gently.

"I don't know, Eric. I don't know," she said, frowning.

Eric squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It'll go okay. You're just a little hyper after that talk with Easton, right?" He looked into her eyes and met her surprised stare. "I'm not backing him, Red. I don't trust him either. Maybe something _will_ happen this time. It always does, anyway." Reddler still seemed skeptical. Eric sighed and revved the engine. "Hey, stuff happens. And if it does, Scottie says we handle it," he finished firmly.

Reddler spared him a wan smile as they pulled out of the airport on to the highway.

Eric Shaw was an extremely skilled field agent, apart from being a competitive and consistent fighter. He was strong, and Reddler felt secure with him. She admired his logical, astute way of thinking and his concise (and sometimes annoying) military air. He lived in the estate facing the Croft chateau, and had been friend to the Croft prodigy for years. He had taught her to fish and ski. Eric, in turn, respected her intelligence very much, and both of their likings grew into a warm, mutual friendship.

Reddler was genuinely relieved to find Eric at Symbiosis by her side. Especially as of now, because Easton had started expressing his displeasure in alarmingly torturous ways.

They pulled into the driveway of a large sixteenth-century manor and gazed around. It was a quiet, sprawling estate, well-kept and landscaped with great taste. Reddler was awed by the size of the place. She could see the picturesque Irish country roll beyond the estate walls and hear the soft, gentle sound of the sea at the skerry below.

Someone cleared a throat at her shoulder, and she turned around. A lean, prim man stood imperiously at her side. He had brilliant blue eyes, but the evil in them sent all the appreciation for the beautiful place scurrying out of Reddler's head. He offered his hand to her.

"Welcome to Ireland, Reddler. How do you like it here?" It was a disarming, friendly enough question, but somehow the lack of emotion in his voice made it sound exactly the opposite. Reddler took his hand, shook it and left it in half a second.

"Very well, sir," she said. "May I compliment you on your manor? It is beautiful."

Artemis Fowl laughed, and Reddler tried not to cringe.

"Thank you. It is _quite _a compliment coming from a smart girl like you."

_You wish_, she thought. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes in apprehension. He turned to Eric. "And you, young man," he said, giving him a friendly pat on the back, "must be another of Easton's famous agents…Eric, isn't it? I have to say, I'll have to be careful with my affairs for a little while, hmm?"

Both of them laughed uneasily. "Thank you for having us, Mr. Fowl. We appreciate your support," said Eric, glancing at Reddler, who nodded animatedly. It was obvious that they would be as relaxed in his presence as they would with a particularly ill-tempered viper.

They had to watch their words, going over them thrice before actually saying them.

Reddler studied the scandalous tycoon as he spoke.

"Relax, my boy," he said. "All this formality gets on my nerves. Just out of curiosity, though, I have to say that I doubt if the both of you are entirely ignorant of the situation here. I haven't been very sincere, I know…another reason to have the CIA on my tail, I suppose," he added with a laugh. The wind played about with his dark hair and his eyes glinted in the sun. Reddler was surprised by his uncanny resemblance to David Easton at that precise moment. "However," he continued, "the two of you have no reason to…_dread_ me. Easton must have explained to you by now, that I'm on your side." His eyes were locked on Reddler, and his voice suddenly took a deep, assuring tone. "I give you my word that no harm shall come to you while you are in my premises."

The two juvenile agents were taken aback by his words. Were they to believe the words of a man who left Interpol chasing its own tail for decades? All the same, they could help but feel the tiniest twinge of relief.

"There's no need for that, sir. We…" faltered Eric. "We trust you well enough," he said after a second.

Artemis Fowl smiled a smile that made the hairs at back of Eric's neck rise and press against his collar.

"I wouldn't mistake the two of you for professionals. All right then, we'll go indoors. I had Butler freshen your rooms before you arrived, they're quite inviting. Butler, why don't you show them inside?"

As if on cue, a tall, well-built man emerged from the shadows of the porch and came out into the sunlight. He reminded Reddler of a professional wrestler and a particularly savage ape blended in to resemble a human. He strode over to the BMW, and Eric obligingly opened the boot for him. He took all of their bags in one hand.

"Very well, then. Reddler, Eric… I'll see you at lunch. Settle in," said Fowl, as he turned and entered the manor.

Butler smiled at the two of them. "Follow me," he said in a deep, surprisingly gentle voice.

Reddler and Eric looked at each other. "I still don't know," whispered Reddler.

"The food is excellent, Mrs. Fowl," said Eric, tasting a forkful of _crème brûlée._

"I agree," said Reddler, tucking into hers. It was true: there was no doubt that all the courses included in lunch were prepared with the finest ingredients. Luxury was writ large in every corner of Fowl manor—from the heavily furnished rooms they were provided with, to the exquisite interior décor-- old-fashioned elegance merged imperceptibly with modern amenities. The very table at which they were sitting was made of highly polished eighteenth-century rosewood, draped with crisp damask linen, as Reddler's keen eyes had noted. The silverware shone like little mirrors in the soft light from the candelabra.

Reddler smiled unconsciously, eased by the pretty, lazy atmosphere.

"Thank you," said Angeline Fowl, gesturing to Butler to refill her glass. "Both of you have wonderful manners, I can see. I wish Arty could meet the two of you. He'd be delighted, I'm sure."

"Who's Arty, Mrs. Fowl?" asked Eric, setting down his fork.

"He's my son, Artemis Fowl the second. He's away at boarding school," she said, raising a flute of Château Pétrus to the candlelight. She gazed into its swirling redness for a moment. "He's about your age, Eric."

Eric glanced at his partner, shrugging. Angeline Fowl had none of her husband's intimidating personality. Her dark eyes were large and liquid, and had a motherly look in them. She had dark, glossy hair and carried herself with a regal elegance. She wore a soft, fruity perfume that reminded Reddler of her own mother.

_A long, long time ago, when even the snow felt warm and life wasn't complicated. _

"Timmy couldn't join us for lunch, I'm afraid. He had to leave for Dublin on some business, and he sent you his apologies…finished already, Reddler?"

Reddler dabbed her mouth with the napkin on her lap. "Oh yes, I couldn't eat a bite more. Superb lunch, Mrs. Fowl," she said, getting up. "Do you mind if we take a look around? I would really like a try at croquet."

"Not at all," replied Mrs. Fowl, "just ask Butler for some mallets on your way out."

"Would you stop_ already_?" whined Eric, panting. "We must've covered the grounds at least twice."

"Just checking the getaway routes," said Reddler, breathing hard. "Okay, one last lap, and we're finished." She started for the manor. Eric threw up his hands, but made no protest. He had learned a long time back not to argue with his partner, however fantastic her plans sounded. Somehow, in a roundabout way, they usually ended up making sense.

He followed her past the double garage, which she seemed to glance at just a bit more than was absolutely necessary before moving on. Finally, they came to the croquet pitch. Reddler set her mallet down and sat on the freshly trimmed grass.

Eric knew that she wanted to talk to him, because they were sitting in the middle of an open field, nowhere near any trees, where cameras could be concealed.

She pulled out her laptop from her coat and put it on her lap. After a while, she faced Eric with the slightest hint of anxiety in her eyes.

"You do know that Artemis Fowl isn't in Dublin right now," she said.

"Yes," admitted Eric. "I guessed it when we passed the garage. The cars are still there, which means he's right here."

"Correct. He's right here, and he's engrossed in some very intriguing e-mailing at the moment."

"How do you know?"

"I developed an infra-red port that reads networking systems…and there's a feast of IMacs in the manor. They're encrypted, no doubt, but come _on_. 'Encrypted' is like a Chinese puzzle to me. One that comes with the instructions," she chuckled.

"How come his e-mail is intriguing?"

"Well, I can't exactly read the contents, but the best I can do is trace it. And guess what? Mr. Fowl has been very busy chatting with someone at Symbiosis," said Reddler, consulting her laptop. "But the interesting bit is that an hour ago, the e-mails has been redirected, dialed through the university at St. Petersburg."

"Russia," mused Eric. "This just gets messier by the second."

Reddler snapped shut her laptop and put it back in her coat pocket. "Look here, Eric. I don't like where this is going. We've been lied to, and there's one source too many for Mr. Fowl's correspondence at Symbiosis. Frankly, I think that we should leave while there's still a chance."

Eric frowned at her. "I get the same feeling, Red. But we can't just turn tail and run. This is Ireland, remember? It's Fowl kingdom. We can't underestimate him, and chances are we won't get past the airport. I'm sure he's got lots of goons around to do his dirty work. There are only two of us, Reddler…and besides," he said, brightening, "it could be one big mix-up and we can sail outta this in no time."

Reddler wasn't convinced. "Yeah, right. Can you check out his e-mail for me? I'll give you the encryption codes. I hate the decrypting bit; I'm suck at it. Give it a shot, will you?"

"All right, I'll get to it right now. And hey, could you make yourself a little less paler? You'll be short listed in a zombie flick in a little while. It'll be okay," he said, laughing.

Reddler could almost see the fear in his blue-gray-blue eyes.

Dinner was a considerably light affair as compared to lunch: parmesan canapé followed by brioche rolls served with ragout. It was served on the portico overlooking the croquet greens, and a nightly breeze whispered against the rapidly fading light. Eric and Reddler readily started to eat, as they were ravenous after the long day. They had just finished the first course, when the portico door opened, and in strode Artemis Fowl, dressed in a vintage dinner jacket and a cold smile. He walked over to his wife and sat next to her.

"Back so soon, Timmy?" asked Angeline sweetly, planting a fond kiss on her husband's cheek.

"Yes, they concluded the meeting sooner than I expected," he said. "How do my little guests like it here?"

"Very well, Mr. Fowl," said Reddler politely. "It's really comfortable, and the greens are lovely."

"Like it, eh?" he asked, abruptly turning to meet her eyes. In the dim twilight, his face looked more sinister than ever. Reddler put her fork down. Her hands shook so much that she couldn't hold it properly. Artemis Fowl smiled his disturbingly ominous smile. "All I can say is," he mused, taking a sip of wine, "enjoy it while it lasts."

Reddler's breath caught in her throat. She glanced over at Eric, but he didn't seem to care, and was engrossed in his food.

She turned to her plate, but her appetite was gone.

Reddler laid thinking in her bed for a long time that night. She didn't trust Artemis Fowl an iota. He had given them his word, no doubt, but was she to trust a criminal? Not today, thank you.

Although she was exhausted, Reddler was too anxious to sleep. What if he were up to something while they were asleep?

But gradually fatigue overcame her, and she grew drowsy. She could hear the sound of feet in the hallway outside, and sometimes brief snatches of conversation. _I don't like it here,_ she thought as she fell asleep.

She was awakened a short while later by a hand on her shoulder and another over her mouth. Surprised by the sudden attack, she panicked and tried to backhand her assailant, but was abruptly pulled out of the bed.

"Shh… it's me," said a soft voice, and the hold on her slackened.

"Eric! What's wrong?" asked Reddler in a tense whisper.

"Quiet. Come to my room, I have to show you something."

Reddler silently followed him to the next room. It was dark, and his e-book lay propped open on the bed, radiating a soft green glow.

"I stayed up and decrypted the e-mails. And it's as nasty as it can get. Someone has been feeding Fowl with all sorts of junk, telling him that we're spies who are out to bust his business. He was disbelieving at first, saying that we're just kids out on school work, but then he saw us on the green with the notebook. They must have CCTVs all over his place. Anyway, he was absolutely livid. Thinks we're going to screw up his grubby work in Russia."

"But he doesn't have any sectors out there. I ran a bio on him before we left," she said, frowning.

"No, but that's his next stop. He's out to expand the Fowl Empire, and he'll be creating a market for cola in Murmansk. He's already chartered a cargo ship and stocked it."

"And he thinks we'll stop him…how, exactly?"

"I don't know. By blowing it up or something…here's the clincher, though." He moved closer to her, and his voice was almost a whisper. "Whoever's giving him this information is way ahead of us. They planted wads of ammo under the BMW, taped it or something. I guess Fowl sent that ape-man to check, et voila! Two teenage spies at your disposal."

Reddler was reeling. It was a little hard to take, given the circumstances. "What are we going to do?" she said.

"_We_ have to get _out _of here, girl. I know that Fowl guy, and chances are he won't be giving us cotton candy. Get your stuff together, and let's scram." His voice was calm, but urgent. Reddler quickly got up and strode to the door, but it slammed open before she reached it.

Silhouetted in the cold, murky light of the hallway stood Artemis Fowl, his face as black as thunder. Reddler backed away as fast as she could and stood near her partner.

"Going somewhere?" asked Artemis Fowl, his features twisting into a malicious grin.

"Mr. Fowl, we know what you're thinking," began Eric, shielding Reddler behind him. "Just give us a minute to explain."

But he didn't let Eric finish. He marched into the room and looked Eric right in the eye.

"Oh, but I don't give _a minute_ to people like you. This is what I _do _give." He deftly stepped aside to reveal Butler with an automatic revolver in his hand, pointed straight at Eric.

Artemis Fowl almost gave off an aura of pure spite at that moment. He tutted, shaking his head. "Now this just won't do. Who do you think _you_ are? You're just a couple of useless kids who think they've got better brains, and can fool someone like me. Do you even realize, _realize _what you've done? _You tried to trick Artemis Fowl. _You rats should have known better. And you call yourself agents! Hilarious!" his gaze narrowed, and in the dim light his eyes glittered like those of a snake. "No one—no one has duped me and got away with it; and you two pests won't be the first, I can tell you."

Reddler gasped, petrified. She could see that Eric was scared, too, but he held his ground and looked ready to fight.

"Please!" she pleaded. "Mr. Fowl! At least listen to us! This is a set-up!"

"How very droll, Reddler Croft, considering it was your idea," said the unforgiving voice.

"I didn't!" she cried. "We were sent on another pretext, you can call…"

"Excuses, excuses," sighed the tycoon in mock frustration. "I tell you, Reddler, this is not how I make money."

He gave a slight nod to Butler. "She goes first. Then the boy."

"NO!" screamed Reddler. "No, no! Butler, you can't do this to us! Please, NO!"

Her plea was met with silence. Butler's face was devoid of any emotion as he cocked the revolver and emptied the cartridge in four quick shots, all directed at blinding force at her.

Eric began moving before the bullets did. He leapt at his friend and pushed her out of harm's way. The bullets struck the notebook on the bed, and smothered out the only source of light in the room. Groping in the brief darkness that enveloped the room, Artemis Fowl angrily flipped the lights on.

Eric and Reddler were gone.

Soft, frosty moonlight filtered in through an open window.

At that moment, Eric and Reddler were running for their lives. Reddler was tired and was almost ready to drop, but Eric urged her on. He was thankful that she had decided to study the layout of the grounds earlier that day. He knew that Fowl would have extra security on the gates, so he decided to set his sights on the skerry. They had been running for quite a while, looping round to confuse the guards. At last, they reached a grassy mound from where they could see the sea. It was still quite far from where they were standing. Reddler almost collapsed at this point.

"Eric," she gasped. "I can't…go…on. I can't walk, let alone run. You go on…I have to rest." She fell to her knees, but almost instantaneously Eric pulled her up.

"We _have _to go on, girl," he pleaded. "No, no, don't sit down…please! Come on, it's just one last bit and we'll be fine. You'll feel better in the water, I promise. Come on, come on, come _on,_ Reddler!" he insisted, but she only stood there, trembling with exhaustion.

"I don't have an ounce of energy left in me…just go, Eric," she said, panting. Her face was hot and flushed.

"I'd never do that," he whispered tensely. "Please—just try!"

"I can't. I can't. I can't. I ca-can't," she was almost crying.

"We'll make it! Just come with me! Stand _up,_ Reddler…don't do this to me!" he shouted.

Suddenly they were caught in the glare of what seemed like a hundred floodlights.

"How very dramatic," said Artemis Fowl, standing beside them. His stare was absolutely caustic. "Although I don't think running will help you much now, Eric Shaw. Unless you intend to dodge bullets, that is," he said, slightly out of breath.

"And _you,_" he said, turning his gaze to the shivering girl standing beside Eric. "You are a very clever girl, Reddler. Yes…you've got a spot of talent for this business, I'll admit. Too bad you wasted it on research at that pitiful institution. _Research_, my dear, won't bring in the money. The millions of pounds with which you can buy anything you want. _Anything_. You can buy a mansion just like mine, or a yacht."

"I _have_ a yacht," spat Reddler.

"Tut, tut. It isn't wise to antagonize people who can eliminate you in seconds. However," he said, with a glint in his blue eyes, "I have a proposition. I'll spare you, _if _you join my forces, and work for me. You can have money and security like you've never known before. Forget Shaw, he goes anyway. Do we have a deal?"

"Mr. Fowl," said Reddler, shaking. "You can damn well keep your proposition to your own crummy self and shove it up your ass." Her tone was crisp, and there was no hint of fear.

Artemis Fowl stiffened, bristling in anger. He turned to Butler and nodded curtly.

Eric saw his moment, grabbed Reddler and ran down the mound as fast as he could. Almost a second later, gunshots tore the silence of the night. Bullets sped past them, winking silver in the moonlight. Suddenly Reddler let out a cry and tripped over. There was a bullet lodged in her ankle, and it was spewing blood. Wincing, she rose to her feet. _If we stop, we die,_ she thought as she limped forward.

"Reddler Croft! You won't get away!" boomed his voice. She turned, and to her horror she saw Butler firmly take aim. _This one_ wouldn't miss her! _I'm going to die, _she realized. _There's no escaping this time._ She saw a flash of her father's face, her beloved chateau, and then the familiar whiz as the cruel metal ripped through the air.

And then—as if in slow motion, she was suddenly aware of a hand shoving her to the ground, and that someone now stood vulnerable, directly in the bullet's path.

The bullet hit Eric right in the chest. He spun, and for a moment the droplets of his blood twinkled like miniature rubies in the air. They danced in the moonlight like crazy red bubbles before hitting the Irish soil. Eric uttered a soft cry and collapsed to the ground, his dark hair shining with beads of sweat. He coughed, and though his face was contorted with pain, he managed a small, sad smile.

"Don't…don't worry. Just run, girl."

The grass was now soaked in maroon. His vision was rapidly failing him. With the last bit of strength he had, he motioned Reddler to go.

"I'll be waiting," he said with a smile.

The last that Reddler ever saw of her best friend was his unperturbed, serene face reflected in his own blood.

Reddler completely stopped breathing right then. She couldn't believe her eyes. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. She was in a nightmare, and she would wake up any second now, and find him grinning at her side.

She dragged herself up. Her entire body felt lethargic, tingling with shock, as if it were drenched in a vat of acid. She leant over him, trying to check his vitals, but somehow—although she forbade herself from believing it-- she knew that the shot had been fatal.

His smile broke her to pieces. She began to tear her sleeve to make a makeshift bandage, but Eric motioned her to go.

She bent over and kissed his cheek, her tears diluting the spatter of red on his face.

She could sense Butler running down the mound, realigning his shots to take a final aim. _But how, how in the world could she leave Eric? _How?

He breathed in raggedly. "I'll be waiting," he said, managing a wry smile. His breathing was now limited to gasps, as he choked on his own blood. Then his body gave a final shudder and remained motionless.

The footsteps were getting closer. Reddler hesitated for a second, and then darted down the green, hysterical sobs rocking her as she ran. She couldn't feel the yards of barbed wire that ripped her clothes to shreds, couldn't feel the angry gashes they left on her. She couldn't imagine how the bullets that sailed past her actually missed her. The grief weighed her down mercilessly, she felt as though she were running against a gale, one that penetrated her to the marrow. _Couldn't see, couldn't feel…_

Time seemed to sputter and fluctuate in this tangled web, and Reddler could only remember dim, disjoint flashes of what happened. She remembered the prickle of the icy mesh of the wired fence, half-stepping, half-slipping on the smooth rocks at the cove, the blinding pain as the salt water stung her ankle, and the smooth, dark gloves of the RU agent who lifted her out of the water and on to the boat.

Everything else was a blur. _Memories running into each other_._ Like too-wet colors._

The entire Ireland affair was kept classified. Easton made a short, formal speech about how committed and loyal their fellow agent had been. He said that it was a futile mission, and the events were beyond their control.

Symbiosis made all efforts to keep the event under wraps, and took utmost pains to erase all of Reddler and Eric's files from the internet, setting extensive security protocols on search engines. To protect her in case Artemis Fowl decided to hunt Reddler down and have a little chat with her, as they said.

Meanwhile Reddler was racked with grief and guilt. Nights and days merged into inseparable clots of time, and her burden grew heavier with every second. The pain of losing Eric was so intense that she could hardly get out of bed in the morning. Sometimes, lying awake late at night, she imagined him walking in through the double doors wearing his goofy grin as he always did. She remembered his ridiculous Bullwinkle impression, and how he wore his baseball cap tilted to the dopiest angle. The way he said that it was weird how her hair could glow red in the sunlight, and repeated it so often that her ears hurt.

Her memories kept him alive. Slowly, she convinced herself through extended calculations late into the night that time was non-existent, and therefore Eric could return any minute.

Supported by her self-constructed cocoon of disbelief, she began to heal.

During the years that followed, she managed to stagger back to her life. She got along pretty well, considering some thoughts were banished from her brain. But although they flickered at times, she could still pretend that they weren't there.

_Because time didn't exist. _

_And Eric could return any minute_.

_End of flashback_

By now her voice was drab, almost emotionless, and her eyes blank, softly staring into space. Butler wondered if she was about to have a breakdown. But she looked frantically convinced, and almost seemed ready to smile.

"He promised us," she continued, in the same monotonous voice. "He promised us…like he _meant_ it.

"And he just stood there… _just stood there watching_!

"There was so much blood…

"I can't sleep…and he _promised_." Her voice started to shake. She shook herself and steadied suddenly, as if coming out of a trance. Her grief seemed to vanish into thin air. She looked at Butler with clear eyes.

"Are you going shoot me?" she asked.

"What?" said Butler.

"Yeah, shoot me just like that other guy did. His name was Butler, too."

Butler cringed, but tried not to show it. "He's dead. He was in Russia with Mr. Fowl and the mafia destroyed their ship. He didn't survive."

"I'm sorry," said Reddler. She sounded perfectly normal, as if genuinely touched. "Was he your brother?"

"He was my uncle."

"Oh."

There was silence for a few seconds. Reddler sighed and leaned her head against the wall. Butler studied her quietly, amazed at the sudden change in her. He stood up and turned to go.

"You had better have a bite. You haven't eaten for a long time," he said, putting the Sig Sauer back in his pocket.

There was no answer. Butler turned around and saw Reddler asleep with her cheek resting on her hand. He could make out very soft, fervent murmurs breaking the air around her.

It took Butler all of his strength to resist bashing his own head against the wall. He swore softly as he made his way to the side lounge. He was sickened to the very core. Keeping someone like _her _captive seemed undeniably cruel. Butler was a man of honor, and this job stretched him to the breaking point.

Artemis was waiting for him, nursing the headphones on his lap. Butler looked him straight in the eye.

"Artemis…" he began, but his young master raised his hand to silence him.

"Butler, before you voice your opinion, I assure you that I had no idea of these trivialities. Autonomous branching of the main mission was never my objective—"

"_Trivialities,_ Artemis? How can you call it that?" his voice was even, but his eyes glinted dangerously. "_I'm_ having doubts about my terms of employment with Mr. Fowl. How can I have protected a man who..."

"I know, Butler. I feel the same way as well. I had no idea that my father could be so…so…"

"Murderous?" piped in Holly, who was sitting next to Artemis. "Somehow, mud boy, I think you _knew_ that a long time ago. And on some grounds, I'd say you were planning to follow in his footsteps."

Artemis sighed. "All right, I agree. But the past few years has changed my perspective. And after you healed my father, Holly, he was a new man. One I could really trust and be happy to follow, and---"

"It's okay, Artemis," said Butler, patting his shoulder. "As long as you keep away from his old ways, you'll be fine."

"Only sometimes you can't help breaking that rule," snorted Holly.

Reddler had rested, showered and eaten. Butler had thankfully brought her some clothes, jeans and a cotton silk shirt, which she felt quite comfortable in. Feeling fresh and alert, she waited for her abductor in the manor's best lounge. Artemis had instructed her to do so while he prepared his 'points of negotiation', as he put it. To which Reddler thought, _bullshit._

She suddenly wondered if she was wrong to be on the point of breakdown in front of her captors. She usually held her countenance in such situations. She should have never told Butler about the Ireland heist. It brought back memories that she couldn't handle.

Reddler smoothed back her hair with a hand and took a deep breath. It was no use worrying about _that_ now. Artemis Fowl seemed intelligent enough to force out the facts, anyway. A little _too_ intelligent, for her taste. Reddler shivered. She had never met anyone with the same intellectual potential as herself. Meeting someone who actually _surpassed_ her was a little disturbing.

And considering that the first time that she lost control of a situation was in full view of that someone was simply unnerving.

She wondered if Artemis considered her to some kind of emotional freak… or a bookworm who was so warped that _feelings_ actually unbalanced her.

It was still dark outside, and pouring with rain. What time was it anyway? Reddler couldn't remember the last time she saw a watch. She could hear a grandfather clock in the hall and wondered if she'd disobey Artemis' orders and take a peep. She could hear it ticking; the sound reverberating through the lounge. Tick…tock…tick…tock...

Time.

_Time doesn't exist._

The door opened.


	6. allies and friends

_ Allies and friends_

"So this is the situation as I see it, Miss Croft," Artemis Fowl was saying, finally rising from the lounge settee. He had been talking for the past two hours, explaining the events of the past years and why he exactly he had abducted her. "And hopefully," he continued, "_you_ will condescend to see it as well."

He paced the room, glancing at her face momentarily, as if for a retort. Which came in good time.

Reddler kept a straight face, but the amusement lingered in her voice.

"And you expect me to believe this," she said. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," said Artemis. His voice was dead serious.

"Aww, really?" asked Reddler, cocking her head. "it's a bit too bizarre to believe, and you _know_ I think so, so lets not waste any more time, Mr. Fowl."

There was a strange look on his face as she spoke his name for the first time. It vanished in a second, and he was back to snappy self.

"You want proof," he said.

"Obviously, yes," said Reddler, looking bored. "You're not a very good negotiator, did you know that?"

Artemis ignored her. "Very well," he said, with a nod to…apparently, no one. "I give you proof."

_Very dramatic_, Reddler wanted to say, but before her mouth even started forming the words, something else seemed to be forming rapidly. The very air in front of her was beginning to convulse, contorting into wavy shapes, and every inch of it was pulsing like a giant ripple. Colors materialized like clouds of spray paint, and then there it was, floating right before her eyes. A small…person--at least that was what it looked like, and more so like a girl—dressed in some sort of regulation clothing, and on its back were…

"Wings," whispered Reddler in amazement. "You're a fairy."

"You don't sound too surprised," remarked Butler.

"Actually, we presumed the existence of fairies quite some time ago. I caught some of their chute architecture when I was working the nuclear scans. We examined them, and then concluded that there was some sort of subterranean intelligence behind this," said Reddler.

"How did you know that we were fairies?"

"Now _that _was a hunch. We quite forgot about the whole thing, and then one of you guys showed up on thermal interference scans. At first we couldn't figure out what it was. Then we zoomed in, et voilà! Wings!"

"Oh gods. Root will have my hide for this! It's enough to have a retrieval squad here to mind-wipe her in seconds," said the fairy, going very pale.

"Anyway, we were really excited at first, finding an entire civilization by ourselves. My partner and I decided to study the scans, and we found some pretty tricky bits of building there. We realized that the creatures who built them had to be quite advanced as well. And advanced civilization spells advanced gizmos. Weapons, I mean.

"We figured that you guys did have the hot stuff, you also had to be pretty peace-loving not to dominate us. I mean, the things us humans do these days is enough to make anyone go nuts. So if we _did_ expose it all, we knew what would be coming next. Main-scale war, exploitation…you know the works. We're not saints, fairy, but my partner suggested that if you guys were decent enough to give us our space, the least we could do was give you yours. Live and let live and all that crap."

The fairy girl looked relieved. "So you're saying that only one person besides you, knows about us?"

"Yes," said Reddler.

"And who is that?" asked Butler.

"My part—my ex-partner. My best friend, Eric Shaw. He's dead," she said, her voice barely audible; the last words almost a whisper.

"I know. I heard. I'm sorry," said the fairy sympathetically. Reddler's face was blank, but she said nothing.

"My name is Holly Short," she said, tucking her helmet in the crook of her arm. The look on her face was friendly enough.

Reddler nodded. "Uh…I take it you're on _his_ side?" she asked, motioning to Artemis.

"Yes, we're fr—I mean allies…just allies," said Holly hesitatingly.

Reddler considered this. She studied the fairy girl keenly. She wasn't tall, about three and a half feet at the most. But she had to admit that Holly was rather striking. She had short auburn hair; and her hazel eyes weren't very large, but had a fire in them like Reddler had never seen before. It was rock-hard determination. Her dearth of height was made up for by her willowy figure.

Reddler wondered whether if _ally_ was what Holly Short was to the infamous Artemis Fowl, and the doubt showed on her face.

It was ten to two at night. The manor was quiet and dark, dimly lit with soft shaded lights. Reddler roamed the vast expanses of its corridors in her slippers making as little noise as possible. Butler had said that she was free to move about in the house, provided she did not use the phones or try to escape. He had borrowed some DNA scanners from the People, and random lasers would start shooting when she even as much as set a toe out of the house.

Reddler felt a strange sense of exhilaration, feeling free after being held captive for so long. The halls were empty, but she knew that she was being constantly watched by close-circuit cameras. Even so, she tried to ignore this fact as she paced the immense place.

The Fowl's grandstanding in society was reflected in the absolute richness of the décor. Intricate oils adorned the walls, and as Reddler noted, almost all of them seemed to depict the generations of the criminal heritage.

She walked further into the darkness, and suddenly felt very alone. It was _the _house, the place where nightmares began, the place where time had stopped. She waited, feeling the tiniest wisps of terror curl back in place.

The time was eight to two.

The walls seemed to have an eerie phosphorescence, almost glowing in the near-blackness. The silence in this part of the manor was frighteningly intense, almost deafening. Reddler curled her fists in apprehension as she listened to the steady pounding of her heart.

There was a small sound, and Reddler almost jumped. She inched towards the source of the sound, and her hands rested on the cool carvings of an ornate doorknob. Without thinking, she turned it and went inside.

Artemis Fowl was resting on a high-backed armchair, studying the various images on one of the several monitors in front of him. After every five seconds or so, there would be a soft 'ding' and another image would be superimposed on top of the others.

"Had a nice walk, did you?" he said, without turning to meet her.

"That's the kola peninsula. A SAT image…how did you get it? Those are protected by the Russian government."

"You're very observant," he said, gazing at the computer screen. "Yes, this is the bay of kola. This image has been sent to me by my father's abductors, the Russian mafiya. This is the place where I have to meet their proposal."

Reddler moved closer.

"Proposal?"

"Yes. I have to give them money," said Artemis, finally meeting her eyes. His deep blue pools burned into hers. Reddler suddenly felt strangely exposed in front of him. The moment he looked at her, the air seemed to turn into liquid. It was a moment that novels stated as _undressing with his eyes_. Stamping down the tingling in her gut, she tried to converse as normally as before.

"And then, will they release your father?" she asked, her voice shaking only very slightly.

"Unfortunately, no," he said, sighing. "I'm only buying myself more time."

"Why is that?"

"Because I have to think of a plan to deliver you to them and then, getting you back unhurt," he said simply.

"Oh," said Reddler, lost for words. "I …I thought that I was expendable, the way you're treating me."

Almost as soon as she had said that, Reddler was shocked with herself. She didn't mean to say it, but she blurted it out before she could stop herself. And now she was disgusted, feeling like a poor sport.

She watched Artemis anxiously for his reaction. She thought that he would yell at her and send her back to that musty cell. But he didn't do that. He only sat there, looking thoughtful, his handsome features accentuated by the sharp glow of the monitors.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to make it up. "I didn't mean that."

Artemis didn't say anything. His eyes considered her fiercely, and Reddler swallowed a gasp. He gazed at her for a long time, and then abruptly stood up and left the room in silence.

He didn't smile.

It was drizzling the next morning when Reddler decided to walk down the greens as she had done with Eric three years ago. The earth smelt grassy and damp from the continuous rain. Dark, angry thunderclouds billowed in the sky over the skerry. Shivering slightly in the cold breeze, her alert eyes moved over the grounds, methodically memorizing every detail. There had been some landscaping changes since her unfortunate escapade. For one thing, there were lesser places to hide, as additional cameras were placed over mounds and ridges. Even so, she tried to work out an escape route, feeling the old thrill of a challenge coming back to her.

Suddenly there was a soft whiz at her shoulder, and Reddler instinctively ducked low. Crouching, she saw a figure silhouetted in the distance against the dark clouds, and recognizing the shape, she jogged forward.

"Practicing your shooting skills?" she asked.

"Only out of habit," grunted Butler. "These things have details hard to memorize." He showed her the object in his massive hands. It took her a moment to realize that it was a gun. It had odd markings and twisted metal branching, and looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. Towards the nozzle, a spiral tube of coolant frothed with a bright blue haze.

"Wow," she said, fingering its smooth surface. It didn't feel like metal at all. "Is this an LEP gun?"

"Yes," said Butler, firing another shot. A rapid dart of energy thrust out in a narrow, heated jet.

"Nonlethals," said Reddler, studying it for a while. "backed by atomic power. High on impulse energy, low on emissive radiation. It's incredible…how did they store the energy? Power cells, I suppose. But how can atomic energy power cells be so small? The smallest of them that I know of are the size of a suitcase."

"You're cleverer than I thought," crackled a tinny, high-pitched voice. It seemed to coming out of a speaker, which, after a glance at Butler's lapel, she realized it was. There was small, grey clip-on badge with wires poking out from the sides. Reddler guessed that it had been torn apart and put together again. Must be Artemis' handiwork. It was so like him, stealing stuff from the fairy people. The cocky voice wrenched her out of her thoughts. "But, my pretty mud maid, you're forgetting something else that we have and you humans don't, and I'm not talking about brains."

"Pipe down, Foaly," snapped Butler irritably.

There was a delighted whinny. "Want to take a wild guess?" said the centaur.

Reddler rolled her eyes. "Magic," she said.

"Exactly," said Foaly. "Magic. That's what's working our stuff. But I'll admit you guessed right. These are Solinium-powered cells. Atomic, yes, but they go a little easy on the environment. We had our tech warlocks shrink them to miniscule sizes and slipped them onto our guns, and missy, we've got power like never before."

"With an ego to match," remarked Reddler.

Butler snorted, and there was annoyed swish of a tail from Foaly.

"Hey, I _made_ these things. I deserve a little appreciation," he whined.

"Look who's asking," laughed Butler. Reddler smiled to herself. She had heard of the quadruped genius, and she liked him at once. And although it was growing dark with smart flashes of lightning, Butler didn't look half as fierce as before, especially when he was laughing.

"The next time, I'll be making a gun just for you, mud man," grumbled Foaly. "Only _you_ won't be pointing it."

Reddler laughed. "Now this feels like home," she said.

There was a pause, and Foaly's voice crackled on the speakers.

"I like her," he said.

There was another hiss of static, and this time another voice rang out, a much deeper one.

"I hate to break the reunion," said Artemis. "But I have to show you something. Come to the study, all of you."

Dark thunder rumbled low in the distance as Artemis presided over the small group in the study. Butler sat at a terminal, working on a tracer signal. The brown leather armchair looked comically small under his huge frame. Foaly, the much hyped-over centaur, stood close by, munching on a large carrot. He was one of the strangest creatures that Reddler had seen, with a pearly-white back and terribly hairy, clever hands. And he was much taller than she had thought.

"This so wonderfully passé," he said with a sardonic grin. "I feel like I'm in a museum. Would you _look_ at the size of these _computers_? They'd be illegal in Haven."

"Charming," said Artemis coolly. "Now if you would please put your surveillance skills into this clip. They'd be quite useful, I'm sure. And much appreciated."

Ignoring Foaly's grunts, his fingers flew over the keyboard with practiced ease. A real-time movie clip came up on the screen, and he clicked on _play_.

At first there was a burst of screen snow and ear-splitting static, but it soon cleared to form a bleary, hazy image. Reddler could make out the deep blue sea with huge chunks of sheet ice floating in the distance. There was a dull gray hull of what seemed like a ship, but she could sense something wrong with its curvature. The camera panned to the right, and caught the shadowed figures of two men standing on the icy deck. There was a tall, dark man who clutched the other person with an animal grip. As the camera focused better, Reddler finally saw who the prisoner was, and it made the color drain from her face.

Artemis Fowl. It was _him._

His wrists were tied with rope and his clothes were dirty and disheveled. He looked paler and thinner than the imposing criminal lord that Reddler had remembered.

She thought that she was going to fall; she felt so faint, but then the camera zoomed in on his captor. His image hit her like a freight train.

It was Vitya Kayakova.

Reddler felt a newfound chill wrap around her, and it had nothing to do with the weather.

She returned to reality only to find that all the people in the room had their eyes trained on her. The clip had ended since long, and the only sound in the room was that of her own ragged breathing.

"Are you all right?" asked Butler, peering at her closely.

"I know that man," said Reddler hurriedly, trying to regain her normal color.

"You do?" asked Artemis, leaping out of his chair. He rarely tended to be this enthusiastic. But now there was a newfound energy in his features, as if he suddenly found life interesting.

"Yeah, I do," muttered Reddler, her face darkening at the thought. "He tried to kill—no, abduct me." She cast a sideward glance at Artemis, narrowing her eyes as if to say _Remind you of anyone?_ But Artemis' eager eyes met hers, and she suddenly didn't feel like a rebuke.

She recounted the ambush in the Appalachians as briefly as she could, with Foaly and Butler interjecting at intervals. But Artemis was strangely silent. His stillness was infectious, and soon everyone was musing over the situation.

"Well, what do you make of it?" burst out Holly. "This Easton chap doesn't feel like Mr. Gumdrops, and that's all I can make out of it."

"I think it's quite obvious. Britva wants more money, and he sent us that clip to figure out their location," said Artemis.

"But why do that? If they want the haul so badly, why not tell us where they are?" said Holly.

"Because we knew where they were the last time, remember? And they _know_ we can do it again. _And_ they'll be waiting."

"And what about Easton?"

"He certainly seems to have a friendly hand with Britva. Undoubtedly they are working on something together, something that will profit them both."

"Then I had better get some equipment up here," said Foaly. "I don't want to be running background checks for mafiya globetrotters on some ancient mud machinery."

"So…does that mean you're in?" attempted Butler tentatively.

"Are you kidding? Am I ever out of a Fowl misadventure?" he said gleefully, clopping out of the study.

"What about you, Holly?" asked Artemis somewhat indecisively.

"I'm in," she said, without a moment's hesitation.

Although Artemis did not smile, the relief was evident in his eyes. "Thank you," he said. "Now I want to be alone for a while. I have to think. When I'm done I need you all to come in one at a time. We'll be leaving for Russia today."

Reddler stared at the Rubik's cube in her hand as she sat on a sofa outside the study door. There it was, a jumble of colors compressed into a modest cube. Occasionally there would be a diagonal or blocks of similar colors as her hand worked it over. Patterns among irregularity. Reddler liked Rubik's cubes because they coincided with her thinking. Her memories were in a tangle, and she ever sought patterns in them to bring them to light. She wouldn't have memories without patterns. Right then, as she thought of the cold, dark night when Eric had been killed, she just wished that she could smash the cube and all of its patterns against the wall.

Butler had been in for a long time. Holly and Foaly had been in before him, and both of got to work the moment they left the study. Foaly had set up a vast array of LEP computers—sleek, speedy devices and hooked them to broadband internet. He could now trawl through the entire _human_ database within milliseconds.

Holly, on the other hand had left for Tara to complete the Ritual. Artemis had explained rather ungraciously that keeping up with the constant healing that Reddler needed since she had been abducted, Holly had exhausted quite a bit of her powers and needed to restore them. The way he said it, Reddler expected herself to feel enraged, but somehow all she felt was sense of shame, feeling that she couldn't defend herself and got into scrapes as regularly as a six-year-old. Artemis Fowl sure could make someone feel very small.

At that precise moment, the door opened and Butler strode out.

"You can go in," he said to her, before heading for the stairs.

Reddler stood up, tossing the unconsciously solved cube on the sofa. She took a deep breath and knocked firmly on the door. On hearing a muffled 'yes' from inside, she went in.

Artemis Fowl was sitting with his back to her, facing the window. The wind howled wrathfully as the near-gale conditions forced the clouds into swirling, grotesque shapes near the horizon. There was no rain yet, but the intermittent flashes of lightning made the room look frightening. Artemis, on the other hand, seemed to be quite enjoying this, as he sat drinking in the fantastic fury before him.

Reddler cleared her throat, and slowly, in his own time, Artemis spun around to meet her.

He looked more like a vampire than ever. Startlingly pale in his dark designer suit, the prodigious criminal mastermind had his eyes travel over his hostage before he spoke. He often did this, but every time his deep blue eyes moved over her, she could feel herself miss a heartbeat. And when they were alone, his eyes had a depth that made her skin tingle.

"So, Miss Croft," began Artemis in his usual crisp, businesslike tone. "I want to commence this little tête-à-tête by telling you of my plans. However, I want you to listen to me carefully all through, and I shall not tolerate any interruptions. So basically, none of your cockiness until I finish. Do I make myself clear?"

Reddler bit down the rage erupting within her and tried to answer as calmly as she could.

"Very," she said.

"All right, then. Foaly's already got a lead on our man, according to what Butler says. He's currently in Siberia. We, on the other hand, won't be making a straightforward attack," he smirked, leaning back into his chair. "No, surprises are more my style. Vitya Kayakova is in Italy, and that's where we're heading. Apparently as Britva's right-hand henchman, he is also the keeper of the control codes."

"Codes to what?"

"Interruptions are not very polite, Miss Croft," said Artemis, flashing a look of disapproval. "But the codes are to the key controls of his transport, which is…"

"A submarine," completed Reddler.

"How did you know?" he asked, sitting up again.

"The hull, it was too curved… too narrow, and no markings." She suddenly started. "That's it! If we know the key controls, we can stop them from escaping!"

"Rather witty of you," said Artemis without the slightest bit of acknowledgement. "But you're right. If we can keep them confined, we can surround them with fairy artillery in no time. Simplicity, you see, is what steers this charade."

Reddler paused as a deafening thunderclap rattled the windowpanes. Over the dying vibrations, she shuddered as she spoke.

"And just where do I fit in?" she said unenthusiastically.

Artemis rose from his seat and faced the window. "You are critical to my plans," he said slowly as he walked. "You are what I have to buy more time. As long as I have you, I'm more or less in their favor. They want you, and I have what they want."

"Why don't you just dump me and the ransom and get your father back?" Reddler moved as close as she dared to him beside the window.

"That's not how it works with the mafiya," explained Artemis. "If they see me coming over with their demands in a day, they'll know I have backup by me. They know me better by now. It's wiser to entertain them and…do what they expect me to do, I suppose."

"So that you can sidestep to formulate a plan?" She couldn't keep the admiration from her voice.

"Exactly," said Artemis, gazing at the distant clouds. "Besides, one of the People is trapped there. I can't fail them, not after all the help they've given me."

Reddler frowned. This fourteen-year old boy was proving to be more puzzling than ever. Most of the time he was an arrogant, cold-hearted individual, but sometimes a streak of nobility would show through, flashing starkly beside his usually icy demeanor.

"Are you forcing me to do this?" asked Reddler, meeting his eyes resolutely.

"No," sighed Artemis. "I can only force you this far. I forced you to my home; I made you believe in this extraordinary world of fairies. Now I've told you of my plans, and whether you help me or not is up to you alone."

"What if I refuse?"

"I'll disable the security systems for the manor. The Lear is docked at Dublin, and Butler will take you wherever you wish," said Artemis in a dismissive tone.

"And…what about you?"

"I'll have to find some other way."

Reddler was silent for a while as she considered the matter. There was no other sound except for the soft patter of rain.

"Please, Reddler," pleaded Artemis softly. "Father doesn't stand a chance without you."

It was the first time she had seen him so desperate. But much to her surprise, she didn't feel pleased; rather she felt a slight, dull ache somewhere in the region of her heart.

"If I'm to help you," she finally said. "You have to promise to give me something back in return."

"Anything you want," he said.

"Do I have your word?"

"Yes," said Artemis firmly. "Now what is it that you wish for?"

Reddler told him, and at that moment, Artemis honestly thought that the preceding silence had been better. There was sadness in her eyes, real sadness, as she spoke. He thought she was about to cry, but she didn't. The grief emanating from her light blue pools was enough to turn his heart to water, and it took all of his strength not to waver.

The Lear streaked the skies over the Adriatic, settling into an easy speed of eight hundred kilometers per hour. Butler had expertly piloted the luxury liner according to Master Artemis' rather complicated flight plan: across Monaco and San Marino, threading along the river Po, and then taking a detour through Bosnia and Herzegovina for a quick refueling stop at Sarajevo.

Holly sat at the window, watching the blue waters below sparkle in the midmorning sun.

"I still don't get it," she said to Artemis, who was sitting at the far end of the cabin helping himself to a glass of iced tea. "What is the point of all this drifting? I thought we had little time in our hands, mud boy, unless you had plans for sightseeing on your mind."

Artemis smirked over his tea. "I thought you had figured that out, captain. Obviously I overestimated your aptitude." He glanced over his shoulder to Reddler, who was reading quietly on the couch. "Want to give it a try?" he asked her.

"The most obvious route to Italy would be from the Mediterranean. That's where all the major flight routes lead, anyway. Clearly the mafiya wouldn't fail to set up watch there. We, on the other hand, are testing a different method of approach: via the north and the north-east of the country. Seems like they haven't got surveillance there, or we would have been intercepted by now. Basing on these facts, I can say that the Adriatic seems to be the safest bet," she said in a bored voice, not looking up from her reading.

"Exactly," said Butler, stooping low to enter the cabin. "You're very good."

Reddler chose not to reply, giving the magazine she was reading a decisive jab instead.

"Everything's proceeding according to plan," he said, turning to Artemis. "I called my contact from Sarajevo, and he confirmed on Kayakova's location. He'll give us the exact coordinates once we hand him the full payment."

Artemis nodded. He'd had Butler position a multitude of spies at select locations all over the world. On payroll.

"Well done, old friend," he said. "I've deduced their position, anyway. If I feel our man's not being very truthful, we can tally his given location with mine and then deal with him. By the way, have you contacted the airport authority at Palermo?"

"Oh yes," said Butler. "As long as they're concerned, I'm ferrying an extremely rich, Irish avid football fan to his suite in Sicily.

And I also mentioned that they would be getting ten percent of tourist charges as profit. They surprisingly agreed to maintain radio silence throughout the rest of the flight."

Gazing into a space somewhere beyond the words in the magazine, Reddler had to admit that it would take a lot to fool Artemis Fowl. A hell of a lot. He was extremely careful, his plans as meticulous as they were ingenious. The airport authorities had been alerted a long time back by the sleek Lear sauntering around the Italian airspace, Artemis must have guessed. It was only reasonable that they send an explanatory notice to the Palermo aerodrome.

"What's that place down below? That looks like a lot of forest cover for an Italian countryside," interrupted Holly, her face squashed into the window.

"We're entering the Messina province," explained Butler, craning in to look. "That's probably Giovanni Zito's Earth Ranch. You know him, he's the crazed environmentalist. Yes that's it…excuse me, I have to take over from autopilot."


	7. over the wall

_ Over the wall_

Reddler blinked in the stark sunlight. She could feel a headache building, and desperately wanted to take a seat in the cool shade of the awning, but she that would mean sitting next to Artemis. Judging by the perpetual scowl pasted on his face, she could tell that he wouldn't appreciate that either. She sighed and rested her head on her elbows, watching the world walk by.

Palermo was a brash, fast-paced city—somehow contradicting Reddler's perception of European cities. She'd imagined it to be a drab, idyllic place with cobbled streets and renaissance architecture. It was a beautiful city, nestled in a wide, blue bay and had an unexpected mix of Viking and Arabic influence. Of course, the medieval Sicilian buildings added to its splendor.

Reddler smiled. Italy, almost.

"Would you like a seat in the shade?"

"Huh?" Reddler turned. Artemis was leaning over the café table, but it was impossible to tell which way he was looking with the dark shades he had on. He sighed.

"It's 'pardon', Reddler. I was wondering if you were uncomfortable in the sun. It really is very warm."

Reddler went; glad to be under the shelter of the awning. Artemis said nothing for a while, and then took a deep breath, as if he was about to deliver a speech.

"I'm sorry," he said in a strange voice.

Reddler was startled. "What do you mean?" she asked, sensing it was one of those rare instances when Artemis Fowl_ actually _apologized.

"For dragging you along this way. It's rather rude of me."

"Hmm…"

"If it hadn't been my father…"

"Did Butler put you up to this?" asked Reddler.

"Excuse me?" said Artemis.

Reddler pursed up her mouth and said nothing. She sensed that Artemis wasn't entirely honest about apologizing. _You have a lot to be sorry for, Artemis Fowl._

"I thought you'd at least have the graciousness to listen. Apparently I was mistaken," he said icily, and turned away.

_You bet._

Artemis wanted to strike out at something very badly. It was one of the few instances when he lost control of his emotions. It had happened when his heart had done a double take on meeting Holly Short for the first time. It seemed to be happening more and more lately since he had abducted the Croft girl. It was probably a good thing that he could keep a straight face.

And right then he was burning up inside. As if the roiling emotions were consuming him. He felt angry, but his anger wasn't directed at Reddler. Which surprised him all the more.

Reddler slowly rotated the cup of iced tea, thinking hard. She tried to assume a bored look, but her mind was spiraling round one question.

_What's happening?_

What was it that forced out the short bursts of friendliness from the infamous Fowl character? His father, after all killed her best friend. It was most likely that his son would follow in his footsteps. So why was he trying to fraternize? Or was he…

"Move out," interrupted Butler's voice in her earpiece. "I'm sending you the co-ordinates. Artemis, do _not_ stray out of Reddler's sight. She is trained for these situations; she'll know what to do." Reddler couldn't resist a smirk. "Holly will be covering us from the outside," he continued. "I'll have to stay in position and make sure Kayakova doesn't escape…Artemis?"

Artemis switched on to a private line on his cell phone. "Yes?"

"I don't like to leave you by yourself, and you know that. However, I could ask Holly to cover for me so that I can escort you here, if you want."

"Don't bother. I'll be fine, I think," he muttered, watching Reddler packing up the surveillance equipment out of the corner of his eye.

"I'll keep an open line for you. Good luck."

"You're wishing the wrong person, my friend," replied Artemis, flapping his phone shut.

Reddler was waiting for him, leaning on a gleaming black Porsche 959.

"Ready for a ride, Fowl boy?" she said, grinning.

Artemis scowled. "Aren't there Bentleys in Palermo?"

"I'd feel too stiff in it. Have some fun for a change," said Reddler, as the car purred to life.

"You can have fun in a Bentley," he murmured, as the car sped into the fast lane.

After half an hour of speeding in and out of traffic, they finally stopped half a block from their rendezvous point. Artemis felt sick to his stomach, and secretly vowed never to ride shotgun with the crazed Croft girl.

"Are you sure that driving license is valid in Italy?" he asked weakly, remembering the time when Holly had ferried him over the Atlantic wrapped in cam foil.

Reddler laughed. "It's valid all over the world, Fowl. Oh, except in maybe East Timor and some parts of North Korea, DMZ and all that, but we're trying to get clearance for them." She looked at him with sparkling eyes. Clearly she had enjoyed it all.

"What's the matter? Scared of a little ride?"

"Reckless driving is no joking matter," he scoffed, trying to keep pace with her. Reddler rolled her eyes.

The street gently sloped down to a magnificent 17th-century palace. Four high turrets rose above it in unison, and the entire building was roofed with a glass dome. Curved buttresses and volutes gracefully accentuated it.

"It's marvelous!" gasped Reddler, stopping in her tracks.

"Baroque architecture. Nothing impressive about it; I've seen better," said Artemis.

"Somehow I never imagined a mafiya kingpin actually _living_ in one of these. A bit too…artistic, don't you think?"

"Not really, when you've placed truckloads of armed goons all over the place," said Artemis, pointing to heavily built men who strolled the front entrance in designer suits.

"Hmm…let's go," said Reddler, quickly walking down the street. They passed the palace and its adjoining building, which seemed to a gallery or museum of some sort. Crossing the street, she disappeared into a little cul-de-sac next to it. Artemis was about to follow, but stopped short of the entrance to the dingy alley.

"Surely you don't expect me to enter _that?_" he asked, cringing. "It stinks!"

"Trash is a good cover," replied Reddler matter-of-factly. "All we have to do is scale up the wall, and we'll have a view of the roof." She pushed some empty crates against the wall, stacking like a staircase. Then she climbed up them and peered over the wall down the roof of the gallery and studied it for a moment. Turning, she jumped off nearly eight feet of crates and landed softly beside Artemis. He stared at her open mouthed.

"No problem," she said. "We've got motion sensors and telescopic cameras. No problem at all."

"I hope you have a plan," grumbled Artemis, tying his jacket around his waist. He looked up at the creaky, shaky stack uneasily. Climbing wasn't his specialty. Reddler noticed his pale face.

"Don't worry, I'll help you up," she said, smiling.

After some grunting and pulling, she finally got Artemis on top of the wobbling stack. Reddler concentrated on the motion sensors, imagining axial cross-branching lines originating from them, and noted their blind spots to chalk out a path for themselves. Drawing into her backpack, she pulled a small metallic mass and rolled it down the roof. A moment later, small legs sprouted out and it moved forward like an insect. It lunged at the nearest camera feed cable and penetrated the insulating jacket of the wire.

"Move out, guys," said Foaly's voice in their earpieces. "I'll be sending in the loop now."

"All clear," confirmed Reddler. "Let's go, Artemis. Here, wrap yourself in this cam foil. Look carefully where I'm stepping, and follow my _exact_ steps. Okay?"

"You do have a plan for crossing this wall first, right?" said Artemis, pointing to the single braid of barbed wire that lined the top of the wall. Reddler gazed at it for a second.

"There are plenty of good boutiques in Palermo," she said before grabbing the sharp, twisting wire and nimbly stepping over to the roof.

Artemis' face was a picture at that moment.

Artemis had never imagined he'd have so many swear words in his vocabulary. Frustrated, he shoved the remains of his lacerated designer jacket into his field pack. Reddler didn't fare much better. Her jeans had snagged on the barbed loops, leaving an enormous rent on the thigh. They had crossed the roof in a ragged diagonal, missing out on the electron beams from the sensors. They now lay flat on their stomachs on the edge of the roof, studying the palace grounds below. Guards were stationed ten feet from each other, and they were constantly moving. Reddler frowned.

"I don't see a way into the palace, Fowl," she whispered.

Artemis brought up Holly on the comm. Screen velcroed to his wristband. "Holly?"

"I can see you. Bring up the grid on the screen. D1 is isolated, farther east. Find a way in through there," came the reply.

Crouching, they quickly made their way eastwards, carefully keeping behind cornices. They rappelled down the wall and into the compounds. Reddler threw another camera bug onto a cable near the fences.

"I'm in," said Foaly. "Move."

Reddler and Artemis made their way through the lawn to a side door, making as less noise as they could. Open spaces were a nightmare, grassy lawns were the worst. You simply couldn't tell how many motion detectors or pressure pads were in place. Or mines. Or guns.

But since there were plenty of guards about, these wouldn't be necessarily activated. Artemis screwed open the combination lock at the door and rearranged its innards for a while. In half a minute, they were in.

"No problem," grinned Artemis.


	8. And into the Palace

_ And into the palace_

Reddler and Artemis tiptoed inside, the door clicking shut behind them. Mafiya or not, it certainly had the look and feel of a palace about it.

"Hot damn," breathed Reddler, gazing at the high, softly lit ceiling and the gilt-lined corridors. It had an ancient, unreal atmosphere, cut off from the harsh world outside. Reddler hadn't been _born_ rich, and luxuries such as these still amazed her, even though her father could probably buy the entire block at present.

Artemis tapped her on the shoulder. "Don't forget the living surveillance," he whispered, gesturing to the patrolling guards down the corridors. He was a bit worried about his partner. She was losing concentration, staring dreamy-eyed about the entire place. He looked down at the comm. screen on his wrist. The control room was in the centre of the palace. There was a route marked out for him but it was interrupted with tiny, moving dots.

_Ah, more security to the control room. I wouldn't have expected any less, _thought Artemis.

He took a moment to marvel at the living map on his wrist. Surprisingly, it was no fairy technology; rather it came from Reddler's personal stash of thermal scanners which she and Eric had developed while at Symbiosis. It had taken Artemis hours to persuade her to let Holly have them, so that they would have a comprehensive map to the control codes. He breathed in, deciding they would have to go for it head on. Of course, there was a tiny hitch of the surrounding security. But that was more Reddler's area.

"Positions, everyone," said Artemis into the tiny mike taped to his lapel. "We're running out of time."

Reddler frowned, trying to find a pathway avoiding the guards. Fortunately, the corridors were not continuous. Small curtained recesses frequented the walls. She waited until the man turned round the bend, facing away from them.

"Now!" she said. They ran the length of the corridor and ducked into a recess. It was dark, but they could make out the bare furnishings. A plush leather settee. A small table. A telephone. She peeped out from underneath the curtain. There was no one on either side. She gestured Artemis to follow her and they ran a good length of the corridor and round the bends. Seeing an armed guard some distance away, they ducked into the nearest recess. They waited until he had walked across their hiding place, and broke into a run again. But unfortunately, this time they were surprised by a man just round the corner, and had to adopt their previous method of hiding in a recess to avoid colliding with him.

To their great dismay, it wasn't a recess at all! Just behind the curtain, wedged in a tiny gap in the wall was an enormous suit of armor. It was draped in muslin, and was probably being repaired. There was hardly enough space for Artemis to stand there himself, let alone Reddler hide along with him. Artemis positioned himself in the little space between the armor and the wall. Reddler had nowhere to hide, and he had to think fast.

"Come here," he whispered.

"What?" she hissed back. "There's not enough space in there for the two of us!"

Artemis said nothing; they were running out of time. He pulled her to himself and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her even closer. Reddler was too surprised for words. She was grateful that it was very dark, or Artemis would've seen her blushing furiously. Surely he could hear her heart hammering this wildly!

_Oh, god…_

"Your feet are showing," said Artemis, glancing down. "Move closer."

"No way!"

It was clear that she wasn't going to comply, so Artemis had to force her to. He reached out with his foot and entwined his leg with hers. He knew that in order to retain her balance, she would have to push in her other foot in between his legs. And that was exactly what she did.

But the other thing she did, one which he hadn't calculated, was wrap her arms around his neck.

_To avoid falling backwards, perhaps,_ he thought. _Perhaps._

Reddler rested her head in the crook of Artemis' neck and breathed in deeply, trying to calm herself. He smelt of faint cologne. Somehow, being in his arms, it felt like the safest place on earth.

_Do vampires feel this warm?_

Mixed feelings rushing through the both of them, they waited with bated breath until the waiting guard shifted his position. They heard the tapping of his boots as he walked by their hiding place. It was an awkward moment, as both of them were reluctant to let go. Then, as if an unpleasant interruption to a dream came Foaly's grinning voice in their ears.

"Uh, guys? I really hope you aren't frozen in place, because we don't have much time…"

Suddenly it became all too clear just how _very _intimate their position was, and they disentangled themselves in a hurry.

Reddler was as red as a tomato, and even Artemis seemed to be coloring up. He cleared his throat.

"We should be, uh, going now," he said.

"Umm, yeah…sure," stammered Reddler, avoiding his eyes.

Out in the open, they struggled to gain a hold on the situation again. They sprinted round the maze of corridors without further incident. After a while, they could see a set of double doors in the distance.

Artemis smiled his vampire smile.

The control room.

Vitya Kayakova was just returning to the palace after parking his car in the galleria garage. The car keys chinked in his pocket. He was enjoying a much-needed break in Italy, courtesy of the big boss. Britva had certainly not been very happy to hear about the Croft girl slipping away from his hands. But Kayakova had managed to lace up his little tale with the gruesome, extensive battle he had fought with Jeffrey Martin, the unexpected, bloodthirsty assassin. He could tell Britva being minutely impressed, and had been sent off to Palermo. Vitya fervently hoped the boss would overlook this tiny incident. But he couldn't forget the fact that his pride had taken a blow. He had been defeated, and was still simmering from the insult.

He was walking over to the palace grounds, when something dropped on to his shoulder. Annoyed, he flicked it off hastily. But something very interesting caught his eye, and he stopped short, watching it fall to the ground. It was a tattered cuff, probably from an expensive jacket. He watched it sway in the light wind as it slowly drifted to the earth.

He picked it up, and fingered the fine silk threads. And then he noticed it.

Two small initials, monogrammed in a neat hand.

_A.F._

Vitya had decided long back not to believe in coincidences.


	9. Dome Drama

_ Dome Drama_

It was a huge expanse of a room, with a magnificent domed glass ceiling and a spotless marble floor. The sunlight shone into the crystal dome, refracting into soft rainbow specks on the floor. Had it not been for the ugly supercomputers rooted at the centre of the room, it was a breathtaking place.

This time, however, Reddler wasted no time marveling at the architecture. She sprinted to the centre with amazing speed and silence, taking the two technicians sitting at the computers completely by surprise. Their hands reached for their guns, but they were too slow. She kicked their guns out of their hands, and in a single flying leap, proceeded to give their skulls the same treatment. Artemis walked over to her side just as the second guy fell groaning to her feet.

"Good work," he said. "Now, Foaly wants us to jack the central processor. We split and look for it. Maintain radio silence unless absolutely necessary."

Reddler frowned. She had counted approximately forty-eight computers in the room, and most of them were the same size.

However, she knew that the central processor could be identified by its cables: they were slightly bulkier, and had specific codes stenciled on to them that she had been made to memorize years ago.

She dropped to her hands and knees, and started to examine the snaky mass of cables. After a while, she was close to giving up. All of them were pretty much the same. She was tired of handling the decade-old Cray-XMP hardwires. Apparently the mafiya weren't very enthusiastic about updating. Reddler stood up, puzzled. She couldn't spot Artemis among the jumble of computers. She suddenly missed a beat. There had to be a glitch somewhere. Very, very softly, she whispered into the mike. "Artemis?"

There was absolute silence, except for the monotonous drone of the machines. Reddler could hear the blood pounding in her veins.

"Artemis?" she tried again. "I think I've just realized something."

And then boomed a voice she recognized only too well. A fiendish, mocking voice.

"So have I."

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Reddler turned around.

Vitya Kayakova was standing next to Artemis, his hand clamped over his mouth and a gun glued to his temple.

"I've just realized that he's expendable."

"Let him go," said Reddler, talking fast. "I'm the one you want." She lifted her hands above her head, throwing away the thermal scanner to the floor at the same time. She watched his eyes travel to the scanner skidding off the floor, and played her move off his reaction. In a split second, she aimed a kick to his knee and snatched his gun as he came down. Vitya fell writhing to the floor.

Reddler and Artemis backed off as he struggled to his feet. They looked around. The entire perimeter of the room was surrounded by guards.

"So," Vitya said, thumbing the safety off his backup weapon. "The great Artemis Fowl finally pays a visit. Your head will fetch me a hot bonus."

"Indeed," said Artemis calmly. "Your own head wasn't obviously enough to track down a thirteen-year-old."

"I'm fourteen!" hissed Reddler.

"Quiet!" yelled Vitya. His traveled to Artemis' hand. Blood was dripping from his finger, which was taped with a soggy band-aid, on to the white marble floor. His nose crinkled at the mess.

"Boy, do something about that or I will," he said, pointing his gun at Artemis' hand, as if to make his intentions clear.

"That's the politest thing you've said all day," muttered Reddler, as Artemis hurriedly stripped off the old band-aid and put a fresh one in its place.

"All right, you wench! You'll come here now. We've got about eight hundred people scouring the States for you. Someone had better tell the boss."

"She's not going anywhere," said Artemis, glancing at the faint, smoky shadow trailing in front of him, almost invisible on the polished floor.

"Don't worry, Fowl," said Vitya in an extra-nice voice. "I'm not going to hurt your girlfriend." He let his eyes trail over Reddler's form for a while. "At least, you won't be alive if I do." He raised his gun at Artemis.

"And don't bother with any wisecracks, you little prick."

At that instant, the glass ceiling shattered into a thousand shards and collapsed about them.

**_B_**utler had been hovering above the enormous domed ceiling, wrapped in cam foil and held in place by Captain Holly Short, who had him attached to one of the clamps on her moonbelt. Keeping himself calm was really hard at that moment, when his principal was involved in a raging drama below him. It tore him to place Artemis in the care of a thirteen, no, fourteen-year old, more so because she wasn't a Butler. But that was the _plan_, and his job was not to deviate from it at all costs. Still, it was fraught with risk. Vitya was armed, and could start shooting at any moment. A bullet at point-blank range to the heart would be too deeply embedded in tissue for fairy magic to heal. Somehow, he felt that it was the girl who was more at risk. He didn't like the way Kayakova was looking at her. Artemis was his first priority, no doubt, but he wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to the sunny little girl. He glanced down to where she was standing. She was staring at Kayakova with a look of pure venom. Her hand moved behind her back, and she gestured to the invisible audience above her. Butler saw her raise one finger, then two. _And …three!_

Butler grabbed onto a piton cord and unhooked himself from Holly's moonbelt. She gave him a thumbs-up.

"That's your cue," she said.

Gravity lunged for its hold on his body in a second, and he plummeted downward into the glass dome.

There was a terrific crash. Vitya's words died in his throat as he watched the razor-sharp shards of crystal shower down on him. He clumsily darted for cover, trying to protect his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the surrounding guards do the same. When the tinkling of the falling glass stopped, he slowly drew his hands back from his eyes, and was astounded to see an _enormous_ man standing in front of him. It was a novel moment, with no one knowing exactly what to do or say.

"Having fun?" said the man, breaking the stiff silence.

As if beckoned by an unheard command, every man swung into action, aiming their weapons at Butler, opening fire at that very instant.

Glass and marble chips hailed all over the place. Butler took his first shot at Kayakova's shoulder, incapacitating him in a second. Then, covering Artemis all the time, he rapidly fired on as many guards he could at one go. His reflexes were lightning fast. Watching him take out dozens of armed opponents at a time, Reddler hoped she wouldn't have to face him in a fight. She, meanwhile, helped herself to Kayakova's automatic weapon, taking on Butler's blind side. Two of the goons started advancing upon them like raptors. Butler backhanded one of them without even turning around. Reddler was too immersed in the gunfight to have heard them approach. The second of them targeted her, landing a fine punch to her side that made her see stars. She fell to the floor, gun slipping from her grasp. She quickly flipped herself onto her back. The guy had his gun pointed straight to her heart. She saw him grope for the trigger. But the shot never came.

Artemis threw himself on the man with all of his strength, ramming his fist into his stomach. The man swayed and fell, moaning in pain. Artemis stood there, looking at his hands, as if amazed by his own strength.

And then Reddler saw another man behind him, poised with an army knife, drawing his hand back to strike.

"Get _down_, Fowl!" yelled Reddler.

She forced herself to feet with blinding speed, spun, and kicked high above Artemis' head, aiming for the knife. Before it could fall to the floor, she struck ground to regain momentum, and hit him on the chin so hard that he spat blood.

By the time the man had stopped sliding over the slick floor; Artemis was already up on his feet.

"Thank you," he said.

"Likewise," said Reddler simply.

Butler eyed the unconscious body slide to a stop in front of him. Blood spewed out of his nose and mouth, leaving glinting red trails around him.

"Dead?" he asked Reddler, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope. Brain damaged," she said, shrugging.

"We're leaving," said Artemis, over the sound of running feet, rapidly advancing. "That'll be the infantry, no doubt."

"What about hacking the computers?" asked Butler. "Foaly was saying something about a central processor."

"It's a parallel processing unit," said Reddler. "Distributed centre."

"So, what now?"

"We leave," said Artemis.

"We're _leaving_?" said Reddler angrily. "Just like that? Are you implying that we risked our lives for nothing?"

"Why don't _you_ tell me what we're supposed to do?" he said coolly. He seemed to be amused at her desperation.

"_Something,_" she insisted. She glanced at Butler, and saw that he was already rigging the piton into loops. If he found it to be surprising as well, he was doing a very good job hiding it. She faced Artemis again. He was staring at her with a smug smile.

Reddler sighed. She was heartily sick of his cavalier attitude. Was there even a point to his insanity? Why would he endanger everyone he cared about on a whim?

She met his calm blue eyes.

_There's something he's hiding from me._

She turned back to Butler and studied him steadily prepare for their escape.

_And Butler knows._

"The piton won't support the three of us at a time," said Butler. "I'll go first with Artemis. Reddler, I'll lower the cord to you, and you can follow us."

"Okay," said Reddler.

Butler wound the cord around Artemis, then himself. "Ready, Captain," he said into the comm. screen. The next moment the two of them were easily lifted from the ground and over the skeletal framework of the dome. Five seconds later, the cord dangled in front of Reddler. She took it and wrapped it around her waist. Just as she as was about to leave, she saw Vitya stir and slowly open his eyes.

The Croft girl was standing quietly in front of him. The ground near her was littered with fallen guards. He swore and reached for his gun, but it wasn't there. The pain in his shoulder was excruciating, but he couldn't tear his eyes off her. She took a few steps backward, blew him a kiss, and then with an enormous lurch, jumped vertically up almost forty-odd-feet and turned a single somersault in mid-air before disappearing over the wrought-iron rafters.

Vitya Kayakova was in a daze. He didn't want to think about the impossible feat he had just seen, it made his head hurt. He just lay there, looking at the blue sky above the mangled rafters. His last thought before falling back to unconsciousness was

_The boss is going to be very angry._

_

* * *

_

_The Lear jet, en route to London_

Reddler sat at the front of the plane, watching a _Blue Planet_ video on the wall-mounted TV, but her mind wasn't in it. She was still angry that Artemis hadn't bothered to tell her the entire plan. Little did she know that it was exactly how Artemis' plans usually went. He never included more people than was necessary in separate fragments of an operation.

She paused the video, tossing the remote to the side table. Her body was aching and she felt extremely sleepy. Maybe a nap would help her refresh her mind. She pulled down the blind, shutting out the rich golden glow of the setting sun. A clip of a school of tropical fish in the ocean was frozen on the TV. The rich blue of the background reminded her of Artemis' eyes. A perfect, vibrant blue. She wasn't aware of the slight blush on her cheeks as she drifted off to sleep.

"Maybe I should apologize," Artemis was saying. He was at the galley with Holly and Foaly. Everyone was exhausted and hungry. He'd asked Reddler to join them, but she had stridden off sulkily to the front of the plane to watch a video and relax.

He now watched the beads of condensation form on his glass of juice. "I do owe her an explanation."

"When will you learn, Fowl?" Holly said, between mouthfuls of strawberry shortcake. "It's not very wise to drag her along this way. She's got her own issues to sort out."

"A hell of a lot of issues," said Foaly, playing with his salad. "But you've got to agree, Captain, that she's far safer with Artemis than back home. Didn't you hear? The mafiya's been combing the country for her."

Holly reached for another slice of cake. "Britva will be informed of this," she said darkly. "As well as Easton."

"I know, I know," muttered Artemis, smoothing his hair.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Artemis."

"I do."

"Because you've got a lot on the line here. They won't be sluggish to finish _you_ off to get to her."

"I know."

Holly munched on her cake thoughtfully. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to talk to her. At least."

Artemis looked out of the window, and gazed at the orange clouds lit up by the sun.

"Maybe I will," he said.


	10. memories

_

* * *

Memories_

Artemis walked into the media room and slid the door shut behind him quietly. The room was silent and a rich ocean blue bathed every object in it. There was no sound except for the gentle hum of the powerful engines of the Lear. Artemis breathed in deeply. For the first time in many months, he felt relaxed. The place had an aura of peace.

He slowly walked over to the couch and opened his mouth to speak. But then his hand brushed against something soft, and he looked down. Reddler was asleep, her hair fanned out on the cushion. Her white skin was bathed in the ocean blue, and she almost seemed to glow. Artemis dropped a breath. He had never seen anything so beautiful. Almost unconsciously, his hand reached out and gently put a strand of hair away from her face. Her hair seemed as soft as her skin. In that unearthly light, it seemed to have a strange luminescence, a fluid quality to it. He smiled absently, relishing the touch that still lingered in his fingers.

"What's so funny?"

Artemis started, he hadn't noticed her stirring. He shook his head.

"You look lovely when you sleep," he said softly. Reddler was astonished.

"Excuse me?"

Artemis smiled again. At that moment, every movement, every feature of hers seemed to be heightened. He hadn't noticed the two small dimples on her cheek that winked even when she wasn't smiling. Or her eyes, large and liquid. God, those eyes….

Or her fragrance. She smelled of vanilla and the softest hint of jasmine. It was so heavenly; he couldn't believe he'd ignored it before…

"Uh…Fowl?" called out Reddler.

"Shh," gestured Artemis. He didn't want to break the moment, lose her fragrance, lose the look on her eyes…

Reddler was puzzled. Why was Artemis in such a good mood? She didn't like the way he was staring at her. His gaze was so intense, it made her uncomfortable. And his eyes seemed to draw her into him, deep into their yawning blue. Reddler looked away, secretly knowing that she might not be able to stop once he got her started. It was just the way he made her feel. Ignoring the goose bumps on her skin, she flicked on the lights.

Artemis blinked in the harsh light. He was sitting on the arm of the couch, shading his eyes with his hand. Reddler noticed that he had changed into a fresh shirt and a light jacket. She looked down at her own jeans, which had an enormous rip on the thigh, and suddenly felt messy in front of him. She had been so tired and angry that she'd forgotten to change, flopping down wearily on the couch instead.

"You can find some clothes in the closet," said Artemis, reading her mind.

"Uh-huh," said Reddler. "Is that why you woke me?"

"Actually," he replied, folding his arms against his chest. "I came here…to…to apologize."

He looked so edgy that Reddler wanted to laugh out right in his face, but she kept a straight face and nodded him on.

"You must be finding my plans a little wild. I know you do. In fact, Butler is of the same opinion, even though he does not show it much. But you have to understand that I never disclose my plans entirely at a time," he drawled on in a professional monotone.

Reddler let out a bored breath.

"Ahem…but I do admit that the Sicily business was pretty close. And I should have told you, or at least warned you, of the dangers that we would be facing. _And _I should have listened to your opinion. For which I am sorry," he said.

Reddler looked him in the eye.

"_That's _what you're sorry for?"

"I suppose so."

Reddler said nothing, but just treated him to her best skeptical stare.

* * *

Stretching herself, Reddler had to admit that she felt a little better. She always did, after a hot shower. She had changed into a crisp lemon-green shirt and cargo pants, and felt comfortable. She went to the galley and fixed herself a sandwich and a hot drink. The room was deserted. She could faintly hear voices from somewhere up front. Finishing her meal, she made her way into the cramped lounge near the cockpit. Foaly was engaged in a game of chess with Artemis, and seemed to be losing. He let out a delighted whinny when she came in.

"_Much_ fresher, kid," he said.

Reddler nodded, sitting down next to him. She watched the game somewhat distractedly, cupping her cheek in her hand.

"Reddler?" there was a swish, and Holly appeared from behind the newspaper she was holding.

"Yeah?"

"I've been meaning to ask you something for a long time. It's about..."

The cockpit door opened, and Butler came in with a cordless phone in his hand.

"Artemis? It's for you."

Artemis stood up and took the call in the galley. Reddler turned to Holly.

"You were saying…"

"Oh yes. It's a bit personal, so I don't really think I should bother."

Reddler gave a small laugh. "I doubt if I've got anything personal left, what with Fowl sifting through my records like a trawler. So go ahead, Holly."

"Um, after your friend Eric died…" she instantly became aware of the change in Reddler's eyes. "What of his family? His parents, are they…"

Reddler was silent for a while. "I don't know how to put this."

"You don't have to, kid," said Foaly gently.

"No, no it's nothing like that. It's just that…"

_

* * *

_

_Flashback_

**Liége, Belgium:** **two years back**

Daniel Blandish, thirteen, tall and darkly tanned, bit into his M&M and chewed it slowly as he took in the landscape around him. Thick green broadleaf forests waned into the distant mist, the cicadas clicking impatiently into the rapidly fading late afternoon light. It was an oddly serene place, the silent, grim forest yawning away for miles on both sides of the muddy road.

He frowned.

They were in the middle of _nowhere._ And night was fast approaching.

He got out of the car and turned to burgundy-haired girl sitting on the mud-streaked hood of Land Rover.

"Any luck?" he asked.

"Nope. I keep losing the uplink," she said.

Dan tapped the hood thoughtfully. "Must be all the forest cover," he said.

"Must be," came the reply. "Shit, shit…batteries are losing juice…come _on_!" she thumped the laptop in frustration, and in two seconds it turned blank and shut down.

"Damn!"

"Told you we should carry a map," chuckled Dan.

"We're not Neanderthals, for Pete's sake! This is the twenty-first century, and GPS shows us round." She took a deep breath, righting the strands of hair that fell over her face. "And maps give me a headache," she said, smiling.

Her friend laughed, stretching himself. "That admitted," he said. "I suppose we're on our own."

"Yeah."

The two of them were silent for a while, studying the towering greenery disappearing into the distance.

"Should they keep her _this _isolated? It's not like she's infectious or anything," said Reddler after a while.

"She could be dangerous."

"Yeah, but…"

"Or violent. We just don't know."

"It's just not right," said Reddler, her eyes on the muddy track.

Dan looked at her. It had almost been a year. Her voice was strong, but her eyes were still sad.

"Maybe we should just turn back," he said softly. "I think I remember the way."

"No way, Dan," she said firmly. "We can make it, I'm sure."

Dan peered into the distant stretches of the muddy blackness. He motioned Reddler to get down from the hood, and got into the car.

"All right, but let me drive for a bit. Maybe I'll get lucky," he said.

"You think?" said Reddler slyly. "You ended up in Liechtenstein on your own. I had to send a chopper to get you to Brussels."

"Oh, ha ha. You're cracking me up, Croft," he replied sulkily. "Now shut up. I need my mind on the road."

Reddler frowned at the specks of mud on her brand-new Fendi jacket. The muddy countryside was starting to get on her nerves. Eight hours of continuous driving made her eyes ache. And to top it off, the GPS had shorted out.

_Great. Just great,_ she thought, closing her eyes.

* * *

Dan shook her awake half an hour later. She opened her eyes to meet a looming iron grille covered with Virginia creeper.

Dan drove round to the front gate, a horrendous black barricade in iron. Perched on it, in grotesque twists of metal was spelled _Asile Winderhurst. _Winderhurst asylum. Reddler shivered. Belgian architecture gone awry.

Dan pointed to a small sign tacked to the wall. _Heures de visite, _it said, in a neat print.

"I think we're late," said Dan, reading it. "Visiting hours end at noon." But he reached out and rang the buzzer anyway.

Two burly personnel, who looked as if they had no intention of letting even a flea in, came to the entrance gate. One them was about to say something, but he suddenly noticed the bumper sticker bearing the Symbiosis logo. He spoke to his partner in rapid French, and then the two of them proceeded to pull open the gate, which creaked as though it had been bolted into place.

Inside, they were shown into a large, heavily furnished office. Dan spoke to the director, showing him his ID. The man nodded, and stood up. He was polite and pleasant, but Reddler somehow felt that they weren't made very welcome. He led them downstairs through a series of heavy, three-inch thick steel doors and into a maze of corridors. Finally he stopped at a low wooden door, with a narrow pane of glass near the top.

"Ah, this must be the one," said the man, stepping aside for them to enter.

Reddler and Dan stepped into a small cubical cell, heavily padded from all sides. Reddler felt strangely claustrophobic in it.

But her attention darted to a small, shivering mass at the very corner of the room.

She paused for a minute before speaking.

"Mrs. Shaw?" she said softly.

The woman whirled around like a wild animal, her ragged hair falling all over her pale face.

"Gosh," breathed Dan, taking a step backwards.

Reddler didn't budge. She looked at the woman calmly. Her behavior affected the gaunt, tormented figure instantly.

"Hello, Reddler," she said, as if she had answered the door.

"Hello," said Reddler. "How are you feeling?"

"Cramped. I thought Europe was going to be luxurious. Boy, was I wrong," she said good-naturedly. Dan could hardly believe his ears. This was a top security asylum! He was uncomfortable, and showed it.

"Uh, hi, Mrs. Shaw," he said.

"Hello, Daniel. I thought you'd be taller."

"Oh?"

"Place really gets to you, I guess," she said, giggling like a schoolgirl. Reddler noted that her face had wrinkles. And she could see the hysteria in her eyes. It reminded her of Easton.

She smiled to herself for a long time, cocking her head side to side, making soft crooning noises. After a while, she suddenly spoke loudly and made them jump.

"Eric! Look at you, all muddy…for heaven's sake, don't ruin my carpet!" she said, glaring fiercely at Dan.

Dan gulped. "I-I'm Daniel, Mrs. Shaw…"

"…And that school of yours, sending you to god knows where! They'll be the end of you, my boy."

Reddler glanced at Dan uneasily. Dan knew that she was holding back her tears. He was about to lead her out of the room, when the cell was rocked by insanely raucous laughter. Reddler turned.

"I got you, yeah," said Mrs. Shaw, wiping her eyes. "Scared you out of your skin, huh? You're not my Eric. You can never be. Because my Eric is _right here._ He's safe with his momma."

"Huh?" said Reddler, puzzled.

"See? Here he is!" she screamed, brandishing a tattered baseball cap in her hands. It had been Eric's favorite cap; the one he always wore lopsided to amuse his best friend.

Reddler walked out of the cell, a lone tear falling down her cheeks. She felt sick to her stomach at that moment.

* * *

"She went mad," Reddler was saying. "She wouldn't recognize anyone at times…and then she set it on fire."

"Set _what _on fire?" asked Holly.

"The house. His dad. His sisters—Karen, Nicolette…burned them to death."

"Oh gods," breathed Holly.

Reddler wasn't aware of it, but behind her back stood Butler, guilt and doubt weighing him down more than ever.

* * *


End file.
